Father To The Man
by Bluenblack
Summary: The sins of the parents are visited upon the generations.
1. Chapter 1

**Father to the Man**

by Blackn'blue (aka Bluenblack)

**Warning:** Violence, Adult Language, Adult Situations, Rampant Sexism, Politically Incorrect Social Commentary, Uncouth Fashion Sense, Scary Old Ladies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it. This story was originally posted to the Trip/T'Poler's section of the House of Tucker (HoT) website in eight parts on November 2006, December 2006 and February 2007. Like I explained in my first posting, the whole thing started as a simple stand-alone story that got completely out of hand.

**Note:** Vulcan words used in this story were either stolen wholesale from the Vulcan Language Dictionary at /vld/, the online Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

**Description: **This is the third story in my series that began with For Want of A Nail and continued with In the Cold of the Night. I suggest reading those before tackling this one. Otherwise many of the references won't make any sense. This story was originally posted to the HoT website in eight parts on November 2006, December 2006 and February 2007. As I explained in my first posting, the whole series started as a simple stand-alone story that got completely out of hand.

**Introductory Note to the Readers: **

I have long been severely aggravated with the half-assed way that the writers handled T'Pol's marriage on the episode Home. So I pondered and came up with something that I thought made sense.

First off, why was Koss so hell bent to marry T'Pol? His family was so disgusted with her that they sent her a summary ultimatum in _Breaking the Ice_, either come home and get married or everything is off. Then, when she finally does come home (with another man hanging all over her no less) suddenly Koss is foaming at the mouth to marry her.

Why? Why was her family so urgently desperate to have her come home and get the marriage over with? Why was Koss so urgently desperate to marry her? He was even willing to put up with the humiliation of taking a woman who flat out told him that she didn't want him, and who plainly already had another man picked out? What was the motivation?

He couldn't have been in love with her. As Trip pointed out on screen, they barely knew each other. Besides, he agreed to let her leave and go back to Enterprise as soon as they got married without even a honeymoon. If I am interpreting what T'Pol told Trip correctly, Koss didn't even get a wedding night tumble. So he wasn't after her body. He wasn't after her for love, he knew he wasn't getting that. He wasn't after her for companionship. What was he after? And even more intriguing, what was his family after?

This is my attempt to offer up an explanation...

* * *

Chapter 1

"I have to what?" Trip asked nonplussed. He rolled over and propped up on one elbow.

T'Pol explained carefully, "Every Vulcan is required to go through this husband. It is part of our standard education. Like elementary school on Earth. We are taught basic survival techniques and then we undergo the Kahs-Wan ritual as... I suppose you could think of it as our final exam."

He stared. She fidgeted uncomfortably. "It is not as if there is any real danger to it if one is properly trained Trip. We do not allow our children to go into the desert unprepared. When I went through my Kahs-Wan I only encountered one le-matya, and two wild sehlats. In all three cases I knew enough to be able to detect them long before they got close enough to be a threat. I avoided any confrontations of any kind throughout the entire test."

"And I have to go through this to prove I am worthy of Vulcan citizenship." Trip lay back down and stared at the bedroom ceiling, blinking and thinking.

"It isn't a matter of proving yourself worthy Trip," T'Pol said earnestly. She sat up and leaned over him. "You are more than worthy. You have nothing to prove to anyone. It is simply expected. Every Vulcan citizen is required to be literate, to be able to master basic mathematical skills, to be able to bathe, dress and feed themselves, to understand how to operate standard household appliances, and to be able to survive the desert conditions in an emergency. It is a standard set of skills."

Trip snorted. "Bathe and feed themselves, and evade wild sehlats effortlessly. All right then. You got it, hun. Can I wear a coonskin cap?"

T'Pol looked down at him. "With or without the raccoon still inside it?" Trip busted out laughing.

"Touché, M'lady," he chortled. "You have been reading that 'History of North America' set of mine haven't you?"

"Of course," she answered. "It will be my responsibility to provide T'Lissa with her earliest training in both of her home world cultures. I must learn as much about Earth as I can."

Trip sighed. "Gotta get used to that. It's a beautiful name. It really is beautiful." T'Pol took his hand and squeezed it.

"She is still Elizabeth," she told him. "Her name in the family archive is Elizabeth T'Lissa."

Trip smiled wanly. "It's not the name T'Pol. It's the need for it. But I have to say that we could not have picked a prettier one." He kissed her hand. They both glanced over at the crib nestled in the far corner of the room. Their perpetual motion machine had paused briefly from her typical frenzy to indulge in sleep. The only motion to be seen was the rise and fall of her tiny chest, and the occasional kick or squirm. A tiny buzz cut through the air, heralding the snore that she would someday grow into.

T'Pol said wryly, "The Human filtering system may be more efficient at capturing micro-organisms. But at least our single passage filtering system does not promote this type of resonance."

"Bigger than she is, isn't it?" Trip admitted. "Amazing that she doesn't wake herself up, since she has Vulcan hearing."

"Apparently she is able to tune it out," T'Pol suggested. "We should attempt to do the same. It will be a long day tomorrow Trip."

"You're right," he agreed. They settled back down and spooned together. Trip snuggled up tightly behind his wife and let himself relax completely. "This," he whispered, "is as good as it gets." he kissed her shoulder gently and closed his eyes.

T'Pol lay awake for another two hours, thinking. She had much to occupy her mind.

T'Pol woke up at 0400 and slipped out of bed to start preparing for the day's activities. By 0420 she had showered and dressed. At 0434 she carried a cup of strong coffee into the bedroom and woke Trip, gently reminding him that the sooner they got started, the sooner they would get back. He yawned and nodded, reaching for the coffee gratefully.

While Trip showered, T'Pol got T'Lissa cleaned up and fed. While Trip got dressed, T'Pol took T'Lissa into the kitchen and kept her occupied as she prepared breakfast. When Trip ambled, still bleary-eyed, into the kitchen he found scrambled eggs and toast waiting for him, and T'Pol neatly and efficiently demolishing a small bowl of sliced fruit. T'Lissa happily lolled in her basinet beside her mother's chair and chewed on a teething toy.

Trip stared for a moment. Then he sat down, shaking his head, and started shoveling his breakfast in as fast as he could. He never would be able to grasp how she did it, so there was no point in wasting breath asking anymore.

After the breakfast dishes and a quick tooth brushing, the family was ready to head out. Trip opened the rear door and activated T'Pol's scanner, checking the area for predators. His other hand gripped a phase pistol set to kill. He had learned the hard way not to bother with a stun setting when dealing with a le'matya. Nothing showed up on the scan, but he still proceeded with caution to the vehicle storage shed where they kept their small air car.

Trip ran a pre-flight check and inspected every system, as he always did before and after each use of the vehicle. All lights were beige, so he powered up the machine and edged it carefully forward to align the car door with the entrance to the house. Trip made a last glance over the control panel, looking closely for any green light that would indicate the Vulcan made vehicle was showing a problem. All systems read nominal.

"Ready out here. Scans clear. Car warmed up and waiting by the door." Trip slid the air car door open and waited next to it, ready to leap out on a split second notice if he was needed. You didn't get much lead time to react on Vulcan. When death came for you on this desert world, it came fast and it never gave first warning.

T'Pol appeared with T'Lissa in her arms and a bag over her shoulder. She stepped across the narrow gap between the house and the car and entered swiftly. Trip slid the car door closed and let his breath out in relief. Not even a family of wild sehlats could break into this car. T'Pol got busy securing T'Lissa into her seat and Trip settled down to activating the lift motors.

T'Pol seated herself beside Trip and reached for the comm. "Security Patrol - Tucker 1,2, and 3 are preparing for departure. Destination Shi'Kahr. Return ETA 2130 plus or minus fifteen."

She spoke in Vulcan and a stern voice replied in the same language, "Acknowledged. We have you on scan. Will monitor your progress to limit of our patrol zone, and advise Shi'Kahr Security to intercept and escort."

Trip smiled. "I actually understood that. Every word of it. Beautiful. Maybe it isn't hopeless after all."

T'Pol looked exasperated. "Of course it isn't hopeless husband. You are entirely without patience; that is all. Your accent is still remarkably bad. But your vocabulary is advancing steadily. All you need is continuing practice."

"Well," Trip said, still smiling, "I am beginning to believe it. Finally." He set the autopilot for Shi'Kahr and noted that two Security Directorate craft had taken position on their flanks. "So since I am advancing, how about telling me that clan name of yours?"

T'Pol looked uncertain. "I truly doubt that you would be able to pronounce it Trip."

"Hey, at least let me try, willya?" Trip wheedled. "I have to learn it sooner or later don't I? I can't have T'Lissa growing up with a father who can't even pronounce her clan name."

T'Pol hesitated. "Perhaps we should wait until you have had more time to practice."

"Look," Trip said, "even if I mangle it the first few times, so what? Let me hear it anyway."

T'Pol looked at him and mentally shrugged. "If you wish. My clan name is Sh'hiran'lin'iijyliunh'rei'iy'iukn'hy'wen'lhia'ehrm'n."

Trip blinked. "Ya don't say." He turned his face back to the windshield and cleared his throat. "Guess you're right. Maybe I should practice a little more first."

-&-

The Medical Center at the University of Shi'Kahr was set back from the main campus in a lovely grove of low growing succulents and sand plants, interspread with Terran rosebushes and Rigellian lourfi vines. Trip strolled appreciatively up the walk, looking around and taking deep breaths.

"This smells great," he said. T'Pol looked at him with a not-quite smile in her eyes. "Those lourfi vines smell like a cross between honeysuckle and cherry blossoms. With the roses, and those... what are those things anyway?" He pointed.

"They are called induro," T'Pol murmured.

"Like cinnamon," Trip claimed. "A sick person could get halfway healed just walking in here."

"It pleases me that you like it husband," T'Pol told him. Trip looked curiously at her.

"You have been acting mighty subdued lately hun. When are you going to tell me what's on your mind?" Trip noted that her eyes flickered downward.

"I have been thinking of many different things Trip, just as you have," she told him. "Right now, I am thinking that our appointment is in 7.4 minutes." They picked up the pace a bit.

Healer Kerlek maintained an office at the rear of the hospital, in a detached building accessible by an elevated walkway. They strolled across the glass encased thoroughfare, passing medical personnel and students from a dozen worlds along the way. For once Trip didn't feel like a sore thumb.

The waiting room was remarkably small by Trip's standards. Even more remarkably, it was empty except for the receptionist. A young Vulcan man heard T'Pol identification, and then directed them to have a seat for the remaining 2.1 minutes until their appointment time.

Kerlek came out to greet them himself and led the family back into his examination room. "How ya been, Doc?" Trip asked casually as T'Pol placed T'Lissa on the table and started to unwrap her.

Kerlek raised an eyebrow. "Quite well actually, Commander. It is gracious of you to inquire." He carefully probed the baby with his fingers at various points, using his senses and trained empathic abilities before resorting to mechanical aids. T'Lissa started to giggle when he tickled her ribs and Trip grinned. T'Pol stood by and watched solemnly.

"She is growing rapidly by Vulcan standards," Kerlek remarked. "As Doctor Phlox predicted might be the case, her development seems to be continuing at a rate somewhat between the norms for her parent races. However her strength and coordination appear to be adhering to Vulcan standards. She will be attempting to stand soon. If she is not already?" He looked curiously at T'Pol, who indicated a negative.

"Not as yet, Healer. However she has been crawling for the past seventeen days with great rapidity," she told him.

"Great rapidity is putting it mildly," Trip chuckled. "The little squirt took off down the hallway yesterday and I had to run to catch her. She can move like greased lightning." He reached over and captured his daughter's foot playfully. She rewarded him with a toothless squeal of happiness. Kerlek, still in contact with T'Lissa, felt the warmth of the paternal bond flowing through the child, and her blissful response. He tactfully withdrew his hands and reached for a scanner.

The exam proceeded with typical efficiency and Kerlek directed T'Pol to repackage her bundle. Then he asked them, "I will transmit these results to Doctor Phlox immediately. As you are both aware, he and I are coordinating additional research into the compatibility of Vulcan and Human genetic material. Would both of you be willing to contribute some small blood and tissue samples to be used in this research project? I can assure you that strict confidentiality will be maintained."

Trip shrugged and said, "No problem here." He looked at his wife. "T'Pol?"

"I have no objections," she told Kerlek. The healer nipped and snipped a few tiny bits with prompt dispatch and polite expressions of appreciation. They left shortly afterward for their next meeting, with T'Pol's expression getting tighter every step of the way.

-&-

Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Reed knew it was ridiculous. The extra pip didn't weigh enough to even be detectable. There was no possible way that it could really be pulling at his uniform collar. But it sure felt that way sometimes. There were so many new things to get used to.

Like this for instance. The brand spanking new First Officer of the Enterprise pressed the buzzer and was invited in enter the Captain's Mess. Might as well learn to take it in stride, it went with the new job. Dinner with the Captain every night to discuss ship's business. With rank cometh privilege, this was surely true. But with rank also cometh many a pain in the ass. Like not being able to sit around with Hoshi and Travis in the evening anymore and shoot the bull. Oh well, such was life.

Captain Archer did not look pleased this evening. Uh-oh. Malcolm's mind went into overdrive, frantically wondering where he had screwed up. He hadn't even had time to get settled into his new cabin yet. Surely he wasn't going to get busted this fast.

Breathe man. It couldn't be that bad. Maybe it wasn't you. Wait and hear him out. "Good evening, Captain."

Archer waved at a chair. "Evening Malcolm. Have a seat and brace yourself. I just got some news from Earth that you aren't going to like anymore than I did."

Reed's breath left him in a silent whoosh of relief and he sat down with renewed optimism. Bad news from Earth he could deal with. After one had received word of a surprise alien attack on his home planet, no bad news could ever faze him again.

"We have at least one, maybe two Terra Prime Sleepers aboard Enterprise," Archer said bluntly. Reed's hands froze in the act of unfolding his napkin. He stared at the captain unmoving for several seconds. Then he put the napkin down very carefully and licked his lips.

"Are you quite sure, Captain?" Malcolm asked coldly. Archer nodded tightly.

"I am afraid the word came directly from your old friends in Section 31, by way of Admiral Gardner," Archer told him. "They are certain of the fact, but they don't have identification yet. They will let us know of course if they find out anything more."

Malcolm's jaw muscles worked. "Can they give us anything else to work with at all?"

Archer looked at him. "One of them is in your department. A security officer. That's all they know." Malcolm tightened both of his hands into fists and his face darkened.

-&-

When they got back to the air car T'Pol settled into the driver's seat while Trip strapped T'Lissa into her travel pod. Once the baby was properly secured Trip slid into his place and started buckling down while T'Pol started the lift motors. "I'm actually looking forward to meeting some of your male relatives," Trip remarked lightly. He watched her face twitch almost imperceptibly. "Ganlas is a good guy," Trip continued more slowly, with a hint of question in his voice.

T'Pol hesitated. Then she cut the lift motors and settled the air car back down to the parking spot. "I have to tell you something." She sounded shaky.

"Finally." Trip leaned back calmly. "Took long enough. You have been nervous as a rabbit in a lion cage for the last week. Go ahead."

T'Pol sighed openly. "I should have realized that it would be impossible to conceal my dread from you." She stopped and gathered her nerve.

"You know about the Vulcan custom of arranged marriages." Trip nodded. "I have also spoken about how marriages are not merely joining between individuals, but between clans. Much as they were in past centuries on Earth." She looked forlornly at Trip, hoping he would make the connection without forcing her to say it.

He looked thoughtful. "Forging alliances. I get it. Go on." She swallowed. Whether he suspected what she needed to say or not, he wasn't going to let her off the hook.

"When..." T'Pol looked away. She could not look at him while she spoke of this. "When I married Koss it formed a joining between his clan and mine. Even though Koss issued a formal announcement that he has disowned me as his wife, the joining between the clans remains intact."

Trip sat and looked at her until she pulled her face back around to meet his gaze. "Which means what, exactly?"

"It means," T'Pol told him miserably, "that since this yearly gathering involves all members of the clan, including affiliated members, Koss might be there. He would have a right to be there, since he is still considered a member of the clan despite our divorce."

"I see," Trip said. "And you were going to dump this on me without warning? Maybe wait until we got there and ran into him? 'Oh by the way hun, you remember Koss don't you?' and pretend that you just forgot to mention this little detail?" His rumbling undercurrent of anger made her flinch.

"I didn't know how to tell you, Husband," T'Pol said meekly. "I am sorry."

Trip growled wordlessly and looked out the window for a moment. "But you were going to go to this shindig anyway. Regardless of what I might think about it."

T'Pol said earnestly, "We must attend this gathering. It is expected of us. Most especially with a new baby."

"We must, huh?" Trip said flatly.

"Yes," she told him. "You know how important family connections are to my people, Trip. This is important to our future here. To T'Lissa's future."

"All right." Trip started unbuckling his seat restraints.

"What are you doing?" T'Pol exclaimed in alarm.

"You need to go, then go," he told her. "I will stay here at the university. I can look around. Grab a bite to eat at the cafeteria. Do some reading at the library. We can meet back here at say, 1900."

"No." T'Pol grabbed his arm. "Husband. You have to come with us. You are the Head of House. It would be an outrageous insult if you sent us and refused to come yourself. Worse than if none of us went."

Trip was breathing through his mouth. "There is no way that you will ever be able to understand what it did to me T'Pol. There aren't any words in any language to tell you how I felt to stand there and watch you give yourself to him." Neither of them spoke for a while. "I can't promise to be able to control myself."

She reached through the bond to offer support. But he was blocking her. T'Pol felt surprised and disquieted, she had not realized that he could do that. Plainly, her adun was seriously upset. But without the direct connection of the bond she had no way of telling exactly how intensely the disharmony ran. "I should have told you before. I acknowledge that. I was wrong, Trip. I let my fear lead me into wrong action. Or rather, I allowed my fear of your anger to prevent me from taking the proper action."

Trip clamped his mouth shut and blew out sharply through his nostrils. He slapped his thigh in frustration and re fastened the safety harness. "What else have you conveniently forgot to mention? Does he still have the right to move in if he wants?" The bite in his voice grated on her nerves.

"No he does not," T'Pol snapped back. "He has no rights at all where I am concerned. This has nothing to do with Koss personally. It is a matter of the two clans, and the connection that was formed when I married him. You knew that the marriage had taken place, Trip. This has been Vulcan custom for thousands of years. If you had bothered to research the matter, all of this information was available in the database aboard Enterprise."

Trip's face froze and T'Pol instantly wanted to bite her tongue off. "I suppose it really would have been logical for me to have spent a little more time doing some preliminary research before I accepted your proposal, would it not?" Trip spoke in a low, carefully modulated voice. "However, being the emotional creature that I am, I failed to prepare for this properly. Now I must face the consequences. By all means. Let us go meet with your beloved clan members." He leaned back and closed his eyes.

T'Pol hesitated, wondering if she should apologize again. Concluding that every time she opened her mouth she made things worse, she started the lift motors and set the air car on course for the traditional gathering site of her clan. It was a two hour flight, and not a single word was spoken.

The camp site was on the open plains, half a day's walk from the base of Mount Seleya. In compliance with tradition that extended back into prehistory, tents and pavilions had been erected across the area with each regional sub-clan having its own designated space. Members of affiliated clans were billeted a special area near the center of the gathering site, in order that they might be made to feel most welcome. In ancient times, this also served to make them most easily observed. But of course, such considerations were strictly a matter of the distant and barbaric past.

T'Pol carefully put the air car down in the parking area reserved for her sub-clan. Trip surveyed the grounds, noting the vari-colored flags that denoted each sector. From the number of air cars, and from what he could see of the crowd, Trip estimated the number of people at about 16,000. Give or take a few hundred. More people were coming and going all the time so it was hard to pin down an exact number.

After shutting down the power T'Pol turned to face her husband. "Trip," she began. "I hope we can get through this together for T'Lissa's sake. I know that you don't want to be here. And because you do not want to be here, neither do I. But we really need to do this, in order to make the family connections that will help us provide for T'Lissa in years to come."

"I will do my best for you," Trip told her. "That's all I have to give you. But I will give you all I have." She blinked rapidly and reached over to squeeze his hand. Then she turned to unfasten the newly awakened and thoroughly drenched T'Lissa.

The perimeter of the gathering area was protected by sensor activated defenses, as well as being patrolled by young unmarried men of the clan selected by lot. But custom still required Trip to carry some kind of bladed weapon on his belt. T'Pol had explained earlier that it could be anything he chose, but status would be gained by wearing something that bore historical significance to his own blood line.

Trip had shrugged, then dug out the twentieth century bowie knife that had traveled with him all the way to the Delphic Expanse and back again. "First Tucker to carry this packed it with him across the Pacific during World War 2," he told her. "Been drifting down the family line ever since." She told him that it would be perfect.

After eleven weeks on Vulcan, Trip was starting to feel a bit more stamina for ordinary things. But they still kept the pace moderate during the walk across the parking area. The loose fitting sand suit felt reasonably comfortable to him, as long as he kept the hood up. T'Pol had insisted that Trip carry a flask of water with him at all times, and had secretly tucked a second flask into her own suit in case he ran out. Her diaper bag also held extra bottles of water, more than T'Lissa was likely to need with her Vulcan blood.

"Our first stop," T'Pol told him, "must be to pay respect to the Eldest Mother." Trip brightened a little.

They found Eldest Mother T'Para surrounded by relatives, in-laws, affiliates, invited guests, and pet sehlats. The mob was well behaved but, "Thick as fleas on a dog's back," Trip noted. "Be a while before we get a chance to see her."

"The Eldest Mother is always the center of attention at these gatherings," a voice mentioned. The voice turned out to belong to T'Pol's mother's father's sister's daughter's husband's brother's son. Which by Trip's counting wouldn't even qualify as family, but Vulcans counted things differently. His name was Aldrian, and he was an engineer. Recognizing Trip from a distance, he had come over to talk shop.

Aldrian introduced them to his wife, L'Sira, who taught secondary level history. Curiosity about Trip's knife started a discussion about Earth's world wars, which led into a discussion of Vulcan's world wars and the ecological damage that had resulted. A remark by T'Pol on the matter led to inviting a nearby botanist named Stovan to join the group. Before long a medium sized clump had formed, with a shifting conversation that kept jumping from topic to topic, and planet to planet. Trip was having so much fun that he forgot to be mad.

At one point, a small boy who stood about mid-thigh high came over and stood looking up at Trip solemnly for several minutes. Finally taking notice, Trip looked down and asked him in a friendly voice, "What can I do for ya big guy?"

The boy pondered the illogic of this form of address, then asked him, "Are you Human?"

Trip pursed his lips. "There are those who claim such, yes." The child looked taken aback for a moment, then spoke again.

"Do your people really eat each other?" Trip's eyebrows rose and he burst out laughing.

"Not by choice," he told the boy, who nodded and took off. Apparently to report his findings to the group of other kids waiting in the near distance.

They finally got a chance to drift over and meet with Eldest Mother T'Para, who insisted on holding T'Lissa. "She has gained a significant amount of weight, T'Pol. Are you certain that you have not been over feeding her?"

"She was subjected to a healer's examination this morning Eldest Mother. He pronounced her healthy and her growth rate optimal," T'Pol announced with quiet pride.

"And how well are you adjusting to conditions here, Trip?" T'Para demanded brusquely. "Are you still suffering shortness of breath?"

"Not as much, Eldest Mother," Trip told her with a smile. "The physical adjustment is the easy part," he added as the smile faded away.

T'Para gave him a sharp look. "Yes. That is often the case. I have found in my time however, that many of the problems which seem most vexing turn out to be, in the long term, the least significant. I counsel patience above all." She handed T'Lissa back to her mother. "Do not hesitate to call upon me, either of you, if I can be of help in your adjustments."

"Thank you," Trip told her sincerely. She waved him away and turned to the next supplicant. At the rate she was working through the crowd, no more than a third of the people waiting to see her would get a chance. As they headed for the edge of the shaded awning, Trip stumbled slightly and felt a sudden rush of dizziness.

T'Pol reacted immediately. "Drink, husband." She held the canteen to his mouth and practically poured the water down him. Trip obediently swallowed several mouthfuls.

"I'll be all right," he finally said. "Just need to sit down for a few minutes."

"This way," T'Pol took off across the camp ground, headed for a large, open sided tent that turned out to be a commissary. She steered Trip to a table, plopped the baby into his arms, dropped the bag on the bench next to him, and took off after sustenance.

Trip looked down at T'Lissa. "Efficient, isn't she?" His daughter gurgled in agreement.

Just sitting down helped a lot. T'Pol had found them a table well inside the shade, and a gentle breeze was cooling things nicely. Trip tossed the head covering back from his suit and let the air stir his hair. Much better. T'Lissa agreed emphatically and reached up with both hands to grab after a couple handfuls. Failing to get far enough to obtain hair, she had to settle for clawing her way into his chin.

"Ow! Kid, those nails of yours are like eagle talons," Trip admonished her affectionately. "Here, play with Daddy's fingers if you have to grab something." T'Lissa accepted the compromise and started munching on his knuckles.

"Here, Trip," T'Pol put a tall mug of cold juice in front of him. "Drink this. It will help restore the electrolytes." Trip tilted his head at the baby to explain that his hands were otherwise occupied, so she scooped up T'Lissa and offered a chew toy in lieu of paternal skin. It just wasn't the same, and T'Lissa said so. Loudly and at length. However she eventually settled down to take what she could get, grumbling and growling to herself about the injustice of it all.

Trip took a healthy swig of the juice and felt the cold liquid coat his throat like ice on the way down. "Didn't realize how hot I really was until now," he admitted with a gasp. "This helps. Thanks."

T'Pol touched his hand with two fingers, the most that decorum allowed when they were in public on Vulcan. "There is never any need to thank me, Husband. Not for caring for my family." He gave her a loving look and lifted the mug for another sip.

"Peace and long life, Commander Tucker and wuh'wak-ko-telsu T'Pol," Koss said. T'Pol concentrated hard on the kohlinar disciplines that she had been practicing all day in preparation for the possibility of this moment. She tried again to reach Trip through the bond, but to no avail. Whatever he felt, he was keeping it locked deep inside. The lack of expression on his face would do credit to any Vulcan.

Her former husband stood across the table from them, next to an older Vulcan male wearing the robes of an upper level government official. The old man also wore an expression of pronounced disdain. Trip looked thoughtfully at them both for 7.8 seconds before he put the mug quietly on the table.

"Koss," Trip said calmly. He offered no polite good wishes, did not invite them to sit.

"Who's your sidekick?" Trip wanted to know. He glanced over and gestured with his finger at the older male, using a disdainful flick that he had picked up from watching T'Para.

By Vulcan standards his behavior was blatantly insulting. T'Pol fought not to say a word. As Head of House, Trip was in charge here. Most especially since it involved Koss. For her to speak without Trip's express invitation would be the most egregious display of disrespect imaginable. But she sat on pins and needles, worrying about what he might do next. She had visions of a knife fight in the middle of the commissary.

Koss stiffened and said formally, "May I introduce my father's brother, Sub-Minister V'Rald of the Science Directorate."

"Howdy," Trip said with a smile and a casual hand toss as he took another sip of juice. "Science Directorate huh? Are you the one who issued the decree about time travel being impossible? Or about Human and Vulcan DNA not being able to combine? Or maybe that old one a few years back that Enterprise's engines would never make warp 5, because the dual nacelle design was inherently too inefficient to sustain anything over warp 4?"

The occupants of several nearby tables had begun to openly monitor this conversation. During the yearly gatherings it was understood that privacy concerns were in abeyance. Anything spoken in public during a gathering was generally acknowledged to be public property. If you wanted privacy, you went inside a car or something. So this conversation, with these individuals involved, was a prime target for eavesdropping.

Koss turned to address T'Pol. "I see that you have not yet had time to instruct your new husband in the niceties of Vulcan customs."

"I know the customs, Koss," Trip said mildly. "I just choose to ignore them where you are concerned. By the way, you and your companion will not address my wife." He turned his head and said simply, "T'Pol, make no reply to anything they say to you."

She looked wide-eyed at her adun and made the only response that tradition permitted her to make. Most especially in such a situation. "Yes, husband."

V'Rald was looking Trip up and down with new eyes, re-calculating him as a potential opponent. Koss allowed visible irritation to show in his face. "You have become quite possessive in a short time Commander. Bear in mind that if I had designs upon your mate, I could simply have kept her when she was mine."

Trip pulled his chin back to his chest and slid the mug away from himself. Then he slowly stood up and braced his hands on the table. He spoke clearly and in a voice meant to carry. "Listen to me carefully pretty boy. You and I both know that she was never really yours. When T'Pol received the letter from your family aboard Enterprise, telling her that if she didn't hurry home to marry you, your family was going to cancel the wedding, I was the one she came to for advice. I read the letter myself. Do you understand me?"

Koss's nostrils flared, "I understand perfectly. She betrayed me with you when we were betrothed."

Trip's hand flashed for his belt. Before Koss had time to flinch the point of the bowie knife was pressing up against the bottom of his chin. Trip's eyes flicked over to V'Rald and he said pleasantly, "One twitch from you and I carve him a new mouth." No one moved or breathed.

Trip turned back to Koss. "T'Pol never betrayed you. But she needed a friend to talk to. I read the letter myself, and it was quite clear and explicit. It said that if she did not return immediately, the marriage was off. Canceled. It would not happen." He backed away slowly and re sheathed the blade. "After that, T'Pol had every logical reason to consider herself free of you. So when she brought me home to meet T'Les, we were both shocked to discover that you and your family were using extortion to force T'Pol into marriage."

Mutters broke out all around and began to spread over the entire commissary. T'Pol held onto her self-discipline with everything she had. It was barely enough. Did he have any idea what he was doing? She tried frantically to break through the barriers he had raised.

"A typical Human lie," Koss retorted. "Why would I? T'Pol and I had been betrothed for years. This letter you purport to have read never existed."

"Typical Human lie?" Trip asked ironically. He smiled. "Humans have established a reputation for honesty with every race that we deal with. Even the Andorians trust us, Koss. Can you say the same?"

A Vulcan male stood up at a table in the middle distance. "Trip." Trip turned and recognized Ganlas, husband to T'Pol's third cousin T'Leera.

"Ganlas, peace and long life to you," Trip replied politely. Ganlas inclined his head gravely.

"I do not personally doubt your words Trip," Ganlas said, causing a slight stir in his own right, "However I would like to ask T'Pol something if I may have your permission?"

"Surely," Trip told him.

"T'Pol," Ganlas said simply. "Is what Trip reports the truth? Did Koss's family send such a letter. And then, after sending such a letter, did Koss use extortion to influence you into marriage?"

T'Pol closed her eyes and said tiredly, "Yes." Dead silence descended.

"You are both lying," V'Rald spoke at last. "It is the only logical explanation, since no such letter was ever sent."

"I didn't expect you to admit it," Trip said quietly. "It makes no difference now in any case. I just wanted you to know that I am fully aware of what you are. I also want you to know something else. Before the wedding, T'Les realized how I felt about T'Pol and urged me to stop her. She was willing to pay the price, let your allies in V'Las's government burn her if it meant that her daughter could be with a man who truly loved her. That's what love is like."

"Then why didn't you?" Koss sneered.

"Because I wouldn't ask T'Pol to choose between me and her mother," Trip told him. His wife heard him with a hollow feeling in her belly. Trip had never told her this, nor had T'Les. Why hadn't he said something, done something to let her know?

Koss smirked. "You knew of course that she would make the logical choice. Which she did."

"I knew," Trip said calmly, "that if I pushed her, then no matter which choice she made it would cause her pain. I decided not to cause her that pain. You on the other hand, are a different matter."

Koss raised an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?" He watched Trip's knife hand closely. "You will not catch me by surprise again."

Trip laughed in honest amusement. "I wouldn't need surprise, Koss. You are slow, and just from the way you stand I can see that you have never been in a real fight. But I have no reason to bother with you now. I have already won."

"You seem quite sure of yourself Commander," V'Rald probed.

Trip snorted in amusement. "So far the people that have tried to kill me include Suliban, Klingons, Romulans, Andorians, Arkonians, Xindi, and a host of others." He spread his hands ingenuously. "I'm still here."

"Noted," V'Rald answered him bleakly. "We should continue with our business Koss," he told his nephew without looking at him. He raised his hand in the ta'al gesture. "Live long and prosper, Commander." They turned and left, followed by a susurration of whispered conversations.

T'Pol bowed her head over the baby and concentrated on remaining as calm as possible. Trip sat down and returned to sipping his juice. Ganlas made his way over to their table and got a waved invitation from Trip to grab a seat. "That was remarkably interesting," Ganlas remarked. "Are you fully aware of the ramifications of what just happened Trip?"

Trip took another sip of juice and looked distractedly off into the distance. "Perhaps you would be willing to educate me, Ganlas."

"Gladly," Ganlas said. "Our culture does business on the basis of family connections. I believe the English term for it is nepotism?"

"I had managed to grasp that much on my own," Trip said, still staring off into space with a pursed mouth. T'Pol, hugging T'Lissa close, had closed her eyes and was reciting the mantra of the _klarahu deni _portion of the Kohlinar disciplines in an attempt to regain her center.

Ganlas absently rubbed the rim of his cup, a thoughtless gesture that spoke volumes about his state of mind. For a Vulcan to be reduced to such absent minded gestures denoted a level of distraction almost unheard of. "In times past this arrangement led to institutionalized abuse and inequity. To rectify this state of affairs our people enacted a complex system of ethical standards to regulate our business dealings. Over the course of centuries these standards have come to be considered sacred."

Trip paused with his mug raised for a moment and started to smile. "Sacred. I see." He put the mug down. "Let me guess. The standards you mentioned consider extortion to be a bad no-no?"

"An unusual way to phrase it, but yes. They do," Ganlas answered. "May I ask T'Pol something else?"

"Hm? Sure." Trip looked startled. "T'Pol can talk to anyone she wants. I was just jabbing at Koss with what I said earlier." Ganlas gave him an undecipherable look.

"T'Pol," Ganlas asked, "are you aware of the extent of the clan's investment in the K'Haril shipyards?" She took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yes. I know that our family owns 34% of the manufacturing base for the starships that are produced there." She looked at Trip, and saw that he had frozen solid.

Ganlas explained to Trip, "The Science Directorate contracts for approximately 42% of the vessels produced at the shipyards, with the remaining 58% being manufactured for the use of the Security Directorate." He sipped his tea and waited.

"Oboy," Trip muttered. "So that's it. And Koss's uncle is a Sub-Minister in the Science Directorate. The old proverb says to follow the money. There it is, right in front of everyone's nose."

"Once our marriage was formalized and the alliance had been established," T'Pol said with more than a trace of bitterness in her voice, "it did not matter whether Koss and I remained together or not. The business connections would still be intact."

"Unless," Ganlas said significantly, "there was some cause presented to cast doubt on the validity of the original joining. If the marriage was found after the fact to be invalid for some reason, then the inter-clan agreement that was formed becomes null and void."

"And some massive pile of credits goes straight down the waste chute," Trip sighed. "I get it now. Yeah. I get it." He looked at T'Pol glumly. "You were absolutely correct, wife. I should have researched this situation more thoroughly."

"Since the recovery of the Kirshara such matters have come under intense scrutiny," Ganlas advised them. "It is distressingly plain that the government under V'Las was rife with corruption from top to bottom. With the entire planet undergoing a new Reformation, any hint of impropriety will certainly not be tolerated. Beyond question, there will be an official investigation into this matter."

"T'Pol did nothing wrong," Trip snapped defensively. Ganlas raised a hand.

"No one said or implied that she did." He glanced at T'Pol, who returned the look with one of deep distress. "But if there is evidence found that the events took place as you reported, then Koss and his family are guilty of several ethical violations. Also, if T'Les or any other member of our clan is shown to have been aware of this, and colluded with them, it will reflect badly on our family as well."

Trip squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. "_Oh Shit."_Aloud he asked with faint hope, "Are you sure there is going to be an official investigation?"

"I have no choice, Trip," Ganlas told him soberly. "My duty is clear." Trip snapped his head up and stared.

T'Pol explained, "Ganlas is a Senior Commander for the Security Directorate, husband." She pressed her lips together. "As soon as you made your announcement, he was obligated to investigate the allegations." Trip started to feel something through the bond, despite his determination to keep his feelings to himself. It didn't feel very affectionate.

"All right," Trip gripped both hands around his juice mug. "Since the cat's out-" He was interrupted by a complaining yell from T'Lissa, who had been growing increasingly irate at being denied her rightful place as the center of cooing attention. She served forceful notice that she expected her parents to put away their foolish distractions, and get back to their proper function of waiting on her hand and foot. It took several minutes to soothe her ruffled feathers.

Ganlas asked T'Pol, once peace had been restored, "I presume that the letter Trip spoke of has since been disposed of?" T'Pol nodded. "Did anyone besides Trip see it?"

She told him grimly, "The communications officer aboard Enterprise decrypted the letter before giving it to Trip."

"Decrypted?" Ganlas raised both eyebrows, intrigued. "That is rather unusual, is it not? I was not aware that it was policy to encrypt personal communications for ship's personnel. At least it was not during my term of service in the fleet."

"It is not," T'Pol told him. "Nor is it typical for Human vessels, which is why my captain became suspicious when the communications officer reported that I had received a surreptitious, encrypted message from the Ti'Mur."

"I see," Ganlas said blandly. "Then the communications officer is also aware of the contents of the letter."

"She didn't read it," Trip explained. "She just decrypted it. We don't make a habit of reading personal messages. Truth is, none of us liked the idea of snooping into T'Pol's private mail. But Captain Archer said that T'Pol had promised to tell him whenever she received a communication from the High Command. Then she receives this encrypted, secret message from a Vulcan cruiser and doesn't say a word about it. So he ordered Hoshi to crack it and had me check it out."

"Entirely understandable," Ganlas said thoughtfully. T'Pol flushed a little and looked irritated and uncomfortable at the memory. "A Vulcan captain would have done the same thing, I am sure." He glanced back and forth between them. "You must have already established a strong friendship if she came to you for advice on such an intimate matter."

"We had not." T'Pol said tiredly. "After reading the letter, Trip came to me to confess what had been done and to apologize for intruding on my privacy. Since he already knew about the situation, I took advantage of the opportunity to obtain the insight of a disinterested third party in the hope of obtaining greater objective clarity."

Ganlas looked at Trip with respect. "An honorable course of action, Trip. Especially since T'Pol would have had no way of knowing about the espionage."

Trip shrugged. "It was the right thing to do."

"Yes, it was," Ganlas said. "Now I, and the rest of the family, must choose the right thing to do. Even if it costs the clan several million credits in lucrative government contracts, and damages our reputation severely throughout Vulcan space for compromising the _Tehlp'hlat_ standards." He stood up. "I will probably be contacting both of you again about this matter sometime tomorrow."

As Ganlas walked away Trip drained his juice and set the mug down very slowly and gently. He took in as much air as he could hold, clamped his tongue firmly on his tongue, and turned to look at his wife. She was watching him with a face carved from solid ice.

They walked back to the air car in silence. Once they were airborne and headed back toward home, Trip broke the silence with, "Go ahead. Unload."

T'Pol stared straight ahead out the front window and replied through her teeth. "I will not discuss this matter with you until I have meditated." Nothing more was said all the way back to the house.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Father to the Man**

by Blackn'blue (aka Bluenblack)

**Warning:** Violence, Adult Language, Adult Situations, Rampant Sexism, Politically Incorrect Social Commentary, Uncouth Fashion Sense, Scary Old Ladies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.  
This story was originally posted to the Trip/T'Poler's section of the House of Tucker (HoT) website in eight parts on November 2006, December 2006 and February 2007. Like I explained in my first posting, the whole thing started as a simple stand-alone story that got completely out of hand.

**Note:** Vulcan words used in this story were either stolen wholesale from the Vulcan Language Dictionary at /vld/, the online Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

**Description: **This is the third story in my series that began with For Want of A Nail and continued with In the Cold of the Night. I suggest reading those before tackling this one. Otherwise many of the references won't make any sense. This story was originally posted to the HoT website in eight parts on November 2006, December 2006 and February 2007. As I explained in my first posting, the whole series started as a simple stand-alone story that got completely out of hand.

* * *

Chapter 2

"Look," Trip put down his PADD and stood up from the desk. "I know you're angry. Why won't you just tell me what you are thinking and get it out in the open?"

"I am not angry," T'Pol snapped. She did not look up from the monitor as she continued to input calculations. Trip looked at her.

"So much for the vaunted renewal of Vulcan's dedication to truth," he said sarcastically. "Your jaw muscles are tight enough to crack walnuts. They have been that way since we got back. Sure you are not angry. Maybe furious would be more accurate then." He closed his eyes and deliberately concentrated on loosening his controls, trying to open the bond connection.

She didn't answer him. After a brief wait Trip added, "You will feel better if you just let it out. Go ahead and vent at me. I would rather have you purge the anger and get rid of it than carry it around like this."

"I have no logical reason to be angry at you," T'Pol told him in clipped words. "Given the circumstances your reaction was completely predictable. I should certainly have expected that faced with the prospect of dealing with Koss under such conditions, you would lash out at him. The error was entirely mine for allowing the circumstances to arise in the first place."

"You couldn't help it," Trip told her. "You said there was no way to avoid going to the gathering."

"I have once again allowed my lack of emotional control to interfere with the well being of my family," T'Pol looked down and struggled to smooth out her expression. Trip took a step in her direction and half raised his hand. She looked up and him and he stopped cold.

"I allowed my fear of your reaction to prevent me from warning you that Koss might be present. As a result, you did not have sufficient time to prepare yourself for the ordeal. Also, I allowed my concern for your health to distract me. Had I paid more attention to our surroundings I might have seen Koss in time to avoid him." She turned back to the terminal.

Trip blinked and cocked his head. "But apparently the big problem is that Koss's dirty little secret is out of the bag."

T'Pol stood up and slapped the side of the monitor. She turned to Trip with her eyes blazing and yelled at him, "The PROBLEM, Husband, is that we went to the gathering for the express purpose of building a good reputation among the family, so that we could use our connections to gain advantages for our daughter. Instead, we-" She stopped and clenched her teeth with nostrils flaring.

Trip finally started getting some feedback through their connection. He began to rethink his decision to open up. His woman was righteously furious.

"I, not we," Trip told her with a trace of irritation. "I am the one who told the truth about what happened. Blame me, not yourself. You would have guarded Koss's dishonor forever. It isn't your fault that I didn't know any better than to believe that bullshit propaganda Surak wrote about truth and honesty." He turned and paced away, shaking his head.

"_HOW DARE YOU!"_ T'Pol side stepped around the end of their desks and came after Trip, who paused in the doorway of their home office to wait for her. She stalked up into his face, panting and seething. "How dare you insinuate that I was protecting Koss! After the way he treated me? He pretended to care for me until his family had their trading partnership. Then he threw me away, leaving me marked for life as a Discarded One? How can you think that I would protect him?"

Trip's eyes narrowed. "Sounds like there may have been a lot I was mistaken about."

T'Pol was too angry to pick up on his tone or expression. "My mother's name, Trip. My _mother's name_ will be tarnished by this. She was an innocent victim. She did nothing wrong to anyone, certainly nothing to deserve to have her memory torn this way. She died for the sake of us all," T'Pol choked and a tear escaped. "She died so that the Kir'Shara could be found. And because you could not hold your anger for a few minutes, because you could not control your desire for revenge, her memory will be stained by this."

T'Pol broke and started crying silently. Trip felt sick to his stomach. He reached for her, only to have his wife pull away from him. She passed through the doorway and went into the bedroom to check on the baby, leaving Trip to contemplate crawling under the nearest piece of furniture.

Trip ran a hand through his hair and stepped into the hallway, just in time to meet T'Pol coming out of the bedroom with T'Lissa in her arms.

"I'm sorry, T'Pol," Trip told her sadly. "T'Les was a good woman. The best. I told them at the gathering, and I will tell anyone else who will listen, she tried to get me to stop it. No way was she in collusion with that scum sucker."

T'Pol stopped in the hall to listen to him. She stood holding their child with her eyes still wet. Before the conversation could become even more disturbing, the comm sounded a double chime to indicate an incoming call. T'Pol carried T'Lissa into the front living area to answer it, with Trip close behind.

"T'Pol here," she spoke into the microphone.

"_T'Para here. Are you and yours well child?"_

They looked at each other uneasily. "Yes Eldest Mother. We are all well here. I trust that the same is true for you."

"_If it were not, I would have told you. Trip's inefficient speech habits are influencing you girl. Come to my house tomorrow at midday. Bring Trip and the baby of course._

"Of course Eldest Mother," T'Pol answered meekly. "How may we serve?"

"_How did you think child? Ganlas will be here with some others to ask more questions. Expect to spend the entire afternoon. Will Trip require food and drink?_

"That would be agreeable, Eldest Mother," T'Pol told her in resignation. "Especially drink. We will arrive shortly before midday. T'Pol out."

"_T'Para out."_

-&-

"I am sorry, Captain," Reed said unhappily. "None of my contacts work anymore. I tried every method I know. I sent a message through every channel, I attempted to call in every marker I have. Nothing worked. I absolutely failed to connect with Harris or anyone else at Section 31."

"Not your fault Malcolm," Captain Archer told him. "They probably figured that the first thing we would do is try to get in touch with them directly. But it still makes to no sense to me that they won't give us any more information than they did."

"Harris is up to something. That much is certain," Malcolm affirmed. "There is no possible way that Section 31 knows about the Sleepers without at least having some idea of their identities. We are being used in a cat and mouse game, Sir. And frankly, I am about to get just a bit pissed off."

"Two minds with but a single thought, Lieutenant Commander Reed," Archer told him. "But these mice have fangs. Let's get busy and start hunting some cats, shall we?"

-&-

"T'Para is an old hand at this game," Trip tried to comfort her as the air car settled down on the landing pad. "If anyone can fix this, she can."

T'Pol shut down the motors and locked the controls. "Whether she can or not, there is no escaping it now. Let us go and 'face the music' as Ensign Sato is fond of saying. Where did that phrase originate?" T'Pol turned to unstrap the baby.

Trip told her, "It came from the custom of havin' musicians play a dirge while a condemned man walked from his cell to the place where they were gonna kill him." He stood up and opened the door. "After you, wife."

T'Pol stepped outside into the subdued bustle of midtown Shi'Kahr. The public parking area was subdivided by tree lined walkways, and also equipped with several entrances to the underground public transport system. They descended and signaled for the next available car to stop at their station. A few minutes later the silver cube pulled up and stopped beside their platform. A door popped open and the family boarded the single compartment vehicle.

T'Pol spoke rapidly in Vulcan. The control panel lights flashed in a dizzying pattern and a machine voice said, "ETA 9.43 minutes." There was no sensation of movement.

Trip muttered, "Inertial dampers in a unit this small? I'd give my boots to have a look under that access hatch." T'Pol wore an expression of long suffering resignation. Before Trip had time to do more than peer hungrily at the controls, a buzzer and a click heralded the door opening. They exited onto a different underground platform. A spiral ramp led them up to street level half a block from T'Para's home.

Trip felt triumphant when he made it all the way to the front door without having to stop and rest even once. The triox, the daily walks, the morning workouts, they were all having an effect. Once a week he flew into the city for a visit to the Earth embassy to use the swimming pool for laps and submerged exercises. His muscles were becoming as hard as seasoned hickory, and Trip was sure that he could tell a real difference in the tightening of his shirts as his lung capacity expanded.

T'Para's house, like every other house in the neighborhood, was surrounded by a tall privacy wall of hewn native stone blocks. T'Pol pressed the sensor plate next to the front gate and identified the three of them. A faint snick as the lock disengaged was her cue to push the gate open. The Eldest Mother's front garden was a sparsely vegetated arrangement of stoneware vases and urns holding a selection of exotic plants, all scattered amidst a small field of carefully raked gravel and artfully placed rocks. The flagstone path wound between several cactus-like plants on its way up to the front door.

Ganlas met them at the door and led them inside, where the Eldest Mother waited for them. Also waiting were Chief Minister T'Pau and her primary adviser on the High Council, Minister Kuvak. Trip winced internally but fought hard not to show it. T'Pol put on her best Vulcan mask and offered the ta'al greeting. "Peace and long life to all."

"Welcome children," T'Para told them kindly. "Sit. Drink." She poured them each a cup of water from the traditional pitcher and they drank the customary welcoming sips.

T'Pau noticed Trip looking around curiously and offered, "Our bodyguards are patrolling the exterior of the house, Trip. This meeting is confidential and classified."

T'Para stuck her arms out in the universal 'gimme the baby' gesture known to grandma's of every humanoid race in the galaxy. T'Pol dutifully forked over, and T'Lissa immediately started grabbing at the tassels on the old lady's stole, then her buttons, then the embroidery on her sleeve, kicking and cooing with excitement all the while.

"So curious, aren't you little one?" T'Para's non-expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Like your parents. Always driven to explore, to learn about new things."

"I apologize Eldest Mother," Trip said self-consciously. He shifted uncomfortably on the chair. "I wanted to say that up front, before we got started. I am sorry."

"For what, Trip?" T'Para pinned his butt to the seat with her glare.

He swallowed an icy lump. "For...," another gulp, "for losing control the way I did."

T'Para's nostrils flickered. "I will accept an apology for your unseemly public display of emotion. If you had apologized for revealing the truth about T'Pol's wedding, I would have been forced to re-evaluate my approval of her choice of bondmate."

He shrank a little at her tone. She turned down the intensity a bit and spoke to both of them. "Do not repeat it, but I ask you both to remember what I said when the shrine was destroyed. Do you both remember?"

Her words rang clear as crystal through Trip's mind. "_What is important is the blood, and the loyalty to the blood."_

They replied in unison, "Yes."

T'Para told them. "Answer any question Ganlas may ask. Listen carefully to everything that the Ministers tell you. But most of all, remember that whatever happens, the family strands with you."

She turned to T'Pol and added, "Consider your priorities child. Your mother is dead, and you cannot help nor harm her. But your husband and your child are both here, and very much alive." She settled back and waved at Ganlas to begin.

"I have accessed my contacts at Starfleet command to obtain copies of the Enterprise logs for the period in question," he began. "T'Pol told me that the ship which transmitted the letter to her from Koss's family was the Ti'Mur, commanded by Captain Vanik I believe?"

"Correct," T'Pol replied stiffly.

"Were you aware," Ganlas asked carefully, "that Captain Vanik is Sub-Minister V'Rald's sister's husband's cousin?" Trip slapped a hand over his face and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

"No," T'Pol said through her teeth, "I was not."

"You may not find it surprising that there is no record in the Ti'Mur's log for any encrypted message being sent to Enterprise," Ganlas noted. No one screamed or fainted. "However, the Enterprise log supports Trip's account of events precisely, with the omission of the contents of the letter. Captain Archer's log simply notes that the letter was reported to him as being private and personal. Therefore he declined to inquire further."

Ganlas paused, "He also notes in particular," eyeing Trip, "that he specifically told his chief engineer that he was not required to notify Sub-Commander T'Pol of the breach of privacy, since it was done on his orders. However, Commander Tucker insisted that honor demanded she be informed regardless of the circumstances."

"Not surprising, given Commander Tucker's subsequent behavior patterns," T'Pau remarked. The Chief Minister leaned forward. "What I am about to tell you is strictly confidential, and is not to be revealed to anyone outside this room without the express authorization of the High Council itself. Is that understood?" They nodded.

T'Pau reported soberly. "Sub-Minister V'Rald has been under investigation for corruption since the fall of the High Command. When Commander Ganlas started his inquiry, we were compelled to intervene."

Ganlas said ruefully, "I was chagrined to learn that our family was already under investigation. Trip's revelation merely forced everything into the open."

"So you already knew about all of this?" Trip asked hopefully.

"Indeed," T'Pau confirmed. "I have known the entire story for quite some time Commander. Lady T'Les was my friend and confidant. In addition to that, we had shared our minds by melding. I was, and am, well aware that everything you reported at your clan gathering is quite true."

Trip slumped in relief and shivered with the sudden release of tension. He rubbed his face with both hands and felt alternating waves of cold and heat pass through him. Trip sat still and concentrated on holding himself in the chair until the dizziness passed.

T'Pol sat and stared at T'Pau. Inwardly she raged at herself for blind stupidity. Of course the Chief Minister knew. How could she not know? Not only had T'Pau melded with T'Les, but she had also melded with T'Pol. It had been T'Pau herself who had cured T'Pol's Pa'anar syndrome. She knew every sordid detail about the situation. Even the things that Trip did not know.

Kuvak picked up the thread. "Knowing something is one thing. Proving it is another. Our investigation has yet to generate any verifiable evidence. Trip's revelation is the first time that someone has openly and publicly presented information that could ultimately lead to proving malfeasance on the part of major government officials."

"By itself all it proves is that Koss is an asshole," Trip muttered. "Besides, if you already knew all of this, what difference did it make for me to say it out loud?"

Ganlas told him. "Information obtained from a mind meld is not admissible in court. Under existing law, direct testimony is required. The accused must be provided the opportunity to challenge the evidence and perform cross-examination. That cannot be done with evidence obtained from a mind meld."

Minister Kuvak cleared his throat. "While the testimony you gave us does not allow for prosecution, it does give us a beginning point. Unfortunately V'Rald's influence has been such that all traceable information on Vulcan that might assist our investigations has been eliminated. But V'Rald could not obtain access to Starfleet records. Nor could V'Rald's clan use their influence to intimidate your shipmates into silence by threatening reprisals against their kin."

"And I didn't know enough to realize the damage I was doing until it was too late." Trip looked down at his clenched fists. No one spoke for a moment. "So how is he going to hit back?"

"It is by no means certain that he will even try," Kuvak said. "V'Rald did not rise to his current position by being stupid. He has long suspected that we are watching him. Now he is certain of it. If he strikes it will be indirectly."

"Healer Kerlek!" T'Pol sat up in panic. "He works for the Science Directorate!" Trip snapped to his feet and Ganlas barely managed to catch him by the shoulders.

"Easy, Trip" Ganlas said softly. "We will take care of it." He held Trip's eyes until the Human finally got his breathing under control and nodded. They sat back down and Trip turned to his wife, who had re-appropriated her baby and was holding her tightly, looking back at her husband with a frightened gaze.

"Kerlek's background has been thoroughly investigated," T'Pau assured them both. "He is not affiliated with V'Rald or his clan in any way that we have been able to detect. His record is clean."

"I don't care," Trip said stubbornly. "I want Phlox back. I know Phlox doesn't have any irons in this fire. In fact, Phlox is the only doctor I am absolutely sure doesn't have any interest in Terra Prime, or this clan feud, or anything else except T'Lissa's health. Phlox is her doctor, and from here on out Phlox is her only doctor. That's final."

"While Doctor Phlox is certainly capable," T'Pau said tentatively, "it is unlikely that he can come here indefinitely. It is equally unlikely that Starfleet will assign Enterprise to maintain permanent orbit around Vulcan."

"It would not have to be permanent," T'Pol suggested. "In fact, it is entirely possible that Doctor Phlox may have contacts through the Interspecies Medical Exchange that he can recommend as alternative physicians for T'Lissa. I agree completely with my adun's opinion that a non-Vulcan physician would be best for the present, simply as a precaution."

"I agree," T'Para said abruptly, settling the matter. "Contact your Doctor Phlox as soon as you can to arrange the matter. If you require logistical assistance, notify me and it shall be forthcoming."

"Yes, Eldest Mother," Trip inclined his head respectfully.

"Very well," T'Pau acquiesced. "I will make a request to Starfleet for Enterprise to visit Vulcan as soon as possible. Meanwhile the Security forces guarding your home will be advised to watch for

Vulcan, as well as Human, intruders."

"Maybe we should get the MACOs back too," Trip considered.

"I think not," T'Pau said with finality. "I was never comfortable with allowing armed Human forces to be involved in this situation to begin with. However since you are Human, and T'Lissa is your daughter, I felt obligated. But after you were attacked in your own home by Starfleet personnel, I am not willing to take any further risks in this matter. The Security Directorate will handle all matters of security on the surface of Vulcan henceforth."

"Understood Minister," T'Pol replied. "I am certain that the matter is well in hand," she added with a warning look to her husband.

"You're a Senior Commander, Ganlas? Are you in charge of the security for our house?" Trip asked.

"I am now," Ganlas told him. "I took over direct supervision after the gathering."

"Good enough then," Trip leaned back, satisfied. "As long as family is handling it, I will trust the Vulcan forces."

"I am gratified," Ganlas inclined his head, a touch ironically. The conversation was punctuated by a sharp complaint from T'Lissa. T'Pol made a rapid mental calculation and realized, "She is probably hungry again. And of course she needs changing."

"At any given point in time, probability strongly favors a baby needing changing," T'Para pointed out. "I will show you a spare bedchamber to use. Then I will bring refreshments. I note that Trip is showing signs of incipient dehydration."

"That would be most agreeable Eldest Mother," T'Pol told her gratefully as she stood up.

"I'm all right," Trip half-heartedly protested.

"Your lips are cracking, Husband," T'Pol told him. "Your breathing has changed in tone to indicate that your nasal passages are drying out. The rims of your eyes are showing signs of irritation caused by moisture deficiency." Trip held up his hand.

"I surrender. I am thirsty. I confess. Guilty as charged." He shook his head. "I know better. Why do I even try anymore?" he asked rhetorically.

"Irrepressible Human stubbornness no doubt," T'Pau replied as she also stood. "If you will permit, I would enjoy assisting you with the child."

"Certainly Chief Minister," T'Pol told her. They trooped out of the room on T'Para's heels, leaving the males to sit in contemplative silence. Typically, it was Trip who first broke the pause.

"I don't understand the attraction. All the Human women on Enterprise were like that too. I can understand wanting to see her and play with her and hold her. But what's with this eagerness to help change her? It's not like they have never seen poop before."

Ganlas pursed his lips. "I am at a loss to answer you Trip. Not yet having become a father, I am ill equipped to speculate."

Kuvak offered, "I believe it to be simply one of those inexplicable inherent differences between the genders that cannot be bridged. When my son Kov was a baby, younger female relatives who happened to be visiting would actually arrange to take turns for the privilege of changing him."

"Say what?" Trip's head snapped around and he stared.

Kuvak raised an eyebrow. "I said that younger female relatives-"

"No," Trip shook his head violently. "Kov. You said Kov is your son? Kov as in the Kov that we met on Enterprise? The Kov that was with the V'Tosh Katur?"

Kuvak closed his eyes briefly and winced. Then he expelled a puff of breath and nodded. "I thought you knew that he was my son Commander. Kov told me that your logic was influential in persuading him to contact me."

Trip settled back with a broad smile. "Well I'll be. No, I didn't know who you were, sir. Kov never got around to telling me your name. It's great to meet you. How is Kov doing now?"

Kuvak looked wistful. "Kov is still traveling with the V'Tosh Katur, although we have managed to settle some of our differences. I continue to attempt to persuade him to return home. I believe that much has changed, for both of us, since he left."

"Kov is a good man," Trip told the Minister seriously. "A fine man, and a fantastic engineer. He probably feels responsible. Without his magic touch, that bucket of bolts they are flying would collapse under its own weight in two days."

"A loss that our people could bear with perfect equanimity," Kuvak said coldly. Then he sighed. "But I am grateful that at least we are speaking to each other again."

"Give him my regards and best wishes next time you talk to him, willya?" Trip requested.

"I will do so, Commander," Kuvak promised. "I am frankly becoming concerned about Kov's unbonded condition. It is time, and past time, that he returns home and arranges to rectify this situation." Kuvak looked worried. "Although with his previous record it will be challenging to find someone willing to consider him as an appropriate mate."

Trip looked thoughtful. "Would you consider letting a Human into the family? I overheard some of the ladies on Enterprise talking about the Vulcan men on the Vahklas. When Kov and I were working together in engineering, a couple of the women in my section told me they thought he was cute," Trip grinned.

Kuvak seemed taken aback. "I... confess that the thought had not occurred to me, Commander. I can find no logical reason to object in principle to the idea however. Certainly your bonding to Lady T'Pol has been propitious. And your child is healthy and intelligent."

"It hasn't always been easy, by a long shot," Trip said. "There's a lot of adjusting to be made."

"The same can be said for any marriage Trip," Ganlas told him. "Could you arrange something for him?"

Trip shrugged. "All I could do is introduce him around to some available ladies and see what developed. We don't do the arranged marriage thing you know. When we think two people would be a good match, what we do is try to set up occasions for them to end up together. Invite them to the same parties. Take them out to the same group events, like sports games or picnics. Give them a chance to spend time together."

"Do you have someone in mind?" Kuvak asked.

Trip pulled on his lower lip. "I might. I just might. Let me have a few days to get in touch with my former second on Enterprise. She took over my department when I left. She and Kov really seemed to hit it off well when they visited us. After he left, I remember her mentioning that she would like to see him again sometime. Maybe we could get them started corresponding with each other. Who knows? Something might take off, or it might not."

Kuvak's eyebrows rose. "A most agreeable suggestion, Commander. I will gladly expedite any messages between them."

"Let me check and see if she is still interested first," Trip rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. "At least they have things in common to talk about, since they are both starship engineers. It gives them a starting point. To tell the truth, it's not easy for Hess to find someone either. It's not easy for anyone to hook up when you are on a ship in deep space."

"An understatement," T'Para remarked dryly, carrying in a tray full of moisture. She set down the drinks and invited the men to help themselves. Trip gratefully grabbed a mug and discovered that it contained root beer.

"I don't believe it," his face split in a huge grin. "Where did you find root beer?" Trip stuck the mug to his mouth and started pouring it down his throat. The Vulcans paused to watch in disbelief as he drained the entire mug in a rapid series of deep gulps. "Oh that's good," he gasped happily.

"I am gratified that you enjoyed it," T'Para murmured. "Would you like another?" Trip smiled through a foam mustache and nodded.

-&-

Malcolm Reed could not remember the last time he had been this angry. Not even during the interrogation of Massaro. Massaro had not been one of _his_ men.

He strode down the corridor hanging onto his self-control with both hands and locked jaws. At least Captain Archer was taking this threat seriously. The last four years had finally begun to make a dent into that man's incurable optimism. It was about time, in Malcolm's disgruntled opinion.

After finishing his regular twice daily check on Phlox, which he refused to delegate, Malcolm proceeded to the gym. Lieutenant Tran already had the MACO's present, just as he had expected. She was putting them through a few warm up routines to kill time until the assembly convened. The remaining security forces were due to arrive in three minutes. Malcolm had publicly announced that anyone who was late by as much as thirty seconds would rue the day they were born. His people took one look at his face and believed it.

The last two stragglers made it with nine seconds to spare. They slid through the door under Reed's glaring eye and slunk over to join their cohorts uneasily. "Attention! Form ranks!"

The MACOs and Security forces leaped into two separate groups and lined up for inspection. Malcolm stood and inspected them silently, examining each person with suspicious distaste. One of them was a traitor, and because of that every single person would have to bear the weight. He closed his eyes for a few seconds as a wave of almost intolerable rage swept through him. One of his own people. Now he began to understand how Trip must have felt about Massaro. This was too much.

Malcolm walked over to the intercom. "We are ready down here, Sir. At your convenience."

"_I will be right there, Commander,"_ the captain replied.

Captain Archer walked into the gym a few moments later looking calm and in control. Reed could only envy his aplomb, even though he knew it was as fake as a Nausican's smile. "Captain on deck!"

The crew stiffened even more, if that were possible. The MACOs in particular gave a sterling imitation of granite statues. Archer stopped next to Malcolm and gave him a nod. "Ladies and Gentlemen, if I may have your attention please."

"_A redundant request if there ever was one,"_ Malcolm reflected, since every eye in the room had been fixed on the captain since his first toe had crossed the threshold.

"At ease." They loosened up a trace. "I don't have to remind any of you about recent attacks by xenophobic extremists." Captain Archer let his bland expression darken. "What you all do not know," he paused for effect and looked over the assembled fighters, "is that recently Commander Tucker and Lady T'Pol were attacked in their own home on Vulcan by Terra Prime sympathizers." He waited for ten seconds and then delivered the punch line. "They were members of Starfleet."

Malcolm swore until the day he died that he could actually hear teeth grinding across the gym. Archer turned and walked back toward Malcolm, giving him a significant look that told him to take over. Reed stepped up and started talking. "After this latest debacle, Chief Minister T'Pau saw fit to relieve all Human personnel of security duty on Vulcan except for areas inside the Earth embassy _only_. They no longer consider us trustworthy. Not even to guard our own people."

The carefully watching captain expected to see visible heat waves start rising off the assembled collars. Reed started pacing up and down the line. "Twice now. TWICE Starfleet has been infiltrated. It is not going to happen again." He stopped and glared. His people glared right back at him, which secretly brightened his heart.

"The captain and I have been working on counter measures to prevent anything like a repeat of the Ensign Massaro incident. To start with, we have developed a new training program for detecting and neutralizing infiltrators. That's why you are all here today. This program will be intense, and believe me. You WILL take it very seriously indeed." Malcolm walked back to stand beside Archer, who smiled to leaven the tension.

"In essence," Captain Archer began, "we are going to hold an ongoing game of capture the flag. But there will be several modifications. To begin with, you will be broken into small teams of mixed MACO and Security personnel. Each team assignment will be temporary and will shift at random intervals without warning." He looked at Reed.

Malcolm picked up, "The captain and I will select five members of the crew at large. The selections will be at our discretion and will be known only to the two of us and the principals involved. These five people will be the designated infiltrators. Each of the five will be given a different assignment to carry out. Some might be assigned to 'sabotage' a critical ship's system. In which case we will provide them with a distinctive item that they will be required to place in a critical point to signify the planting of a bomb."

Archer stepped in, "Other assigned infiltrators might be told to assassinate someone. In that case, they will be required to stalk and mark their target in such a way that no one else becomes aware of it."

"Still others," Malcolm went on, "will be given the task of attempting to obtain confidential information. They will be required to bypass security measures and obtain information from specific files. Others might be assigned to steal something."

"Your job," Reed went on, "will be to detect and stop the five infiltrators before they can complete their assignments. This will be complicated by several factors. First, we will be changing the identity of the infiltrators at random intervals. You will never be sure of who they are, so you will have to constantly be on guard. Second, we are not going to exempt our own people here. In fact, we insist on making sure that at least two members of Security and/or MACOs are included as part of the group of five at all times."

That got a reaction. If Malcolm was judging them right, sparks of gleaming interest were shining across the board. The training exercise had suddenly become much more interesting to them. He nodded. "Questions? Yes, Lieutenant."

Tran stepped forward. "Sir. Will the infiltrators be aware of each other's identities?"

"Sometimes," was the ambiguous reply.

"Will they be permitted to coordinate their activities?"

"Yes, they will." Tran nodded and stepped back.

"Any further questions?" Malcolm surveyed the room. "All right then. You will receive your team assignments this morning. Each team leader will be responsible for his or her own people. The exercise will be conducted in addition to your regular duties. Or I should say, in conjunction with your regular duties. The exercise will be ongoing 24/7. At any time, day or night, you might see something suspicious. Do not hesitate. A real infiltrator is not going to be considerate enough to confine their actions to alpha shift, so we can't lay around and restrict ourselves to only watching for them during convenient times either."

Captain Archer announced, "The five mock infiltrators have already been briefed and given their assignments. As of 0900 hours this morning, you are officially notified that this ship has been penetrated by intruders with hostile intent. Find them. Stop them. We can't tell you anything more than that they are here. We don't know who they are, what department they are in, or what their objectives are. Except we do know that at least two of them are in this room. They could be anyone of any rank. Not even the senior officers are above suspicion."

Malcolm added, "There will be no negative consequences of any kind for false positives. If one of you accidentally embarrasses a senior officer by mistakenly fingering them as an infiltrator, don't worry about it. We will make sure they get over it. We want you to be hyper vigilant, so feel free to get paranoid.

"However, any team who does nail one of the infiltrators will think they have hit the mother lode. Prizes include movie night selection privilege, extra shore leave, extra gym privileges, and ultimately a commendation. The grand prize, for anyone who manages to nail ten infiltrators during the course of the exercise, will be a recommendation for early promotion."

Broad grins flashed all over the room, like the bared fangs of a hunting pack.

-&-

T'Pol peeled T'Lissa like a squirming onion, deftly forestalling her constant efforts at escape. T'Pau looked perilously close to smiling at the baby's antics. "She is quite active."

"Yes," T'Pol agreed with satisfaction. "Her energy levels are most satisfactory. Also, her balance is above average for a Vulcan child at her stage of development."

"What is her intelligence rating?" T'Pau inquired, handing her a new diaper.

"She tests out at the upper end of the curve in all categories for both races," T'Pol announced. She didn't even bother to attempt to hide her pride. "She also exhibits Vulcan normal telepathic ability."

"So it seems that far from being incompatible, Vulcan and Human DNA complement each other remarkably well," T'Pau mused. "It is not surprising that V'Las wished to suppress this knowledge."

T'Pol turned to reach for talcum powder and T'Lissa snatched her opportunity. She rolled swiftly to her belly and started backing butt first toward the edge of the bed, intent on making a break for it. Her mother reached out without bothering to look and intercepted her before she could get more than her feet over the edge. The thwarted little fugitive burst out in frustrated cursing to the limits of her vocabulary.

"Sa-Da! Sa-Da! Sa-Da!" she demanded imperiously while T'Pol, undeterred by any trace of sympathy for her nudist yearnings, placed her back on the pad and proceeded to reconfine her in the hated diaper.

T'Pau's eyebrows took off like rockets. "She is attempting to verbalize already?"

"Indeed she is. Human children attempt to use sounds to communicate within a few months of birth," T'Pol informed her. "Sa-Da is what she says when she wants her father. We believe it is a composite of Sa-Mekh and the Human word Daddy."

"I confess to curiosity about Human paternal behavior," T'Pau wondered. "How has your adun adapted?"

"He is quite devoted to her," T'Pol reported. "Fiercely protective, and absolutely dedicated to providing for her needs. If there is anything she needs, anything at all, Trip will not rest until he has obtained it for her. He is nearly obsessive about it. However when it comes to hands-on nurturing like feeding and changing he is less adept. He is always willing to make the attempt, but the results have often proven unfortunate." T'Pol's mind flashed back to the 'unfortunate' incident of Trip's attempt at feeding T'Lissa pudding. She winced internally and forcibly shoved the memory aside.

"May I ask a question that involves a personal matter?" T'Pau waited while T'Pol took several deep breaths and settled her expression.

"Certainly Chief Minister," she replied formally. "You may ask any question you see fit." T'Pau inclined her head.

"I conclude from your adun's reaction earlier that you did not inform him of our mind meld. Is this correct?"

T'Pol's ear tips darkened slightly. "No. I mean, yes. You are correct. I have not informed him."

"Was he aware of your Pa'anar syndrome, or the reason for it?" T'Pau waited. T'Pol's hands continued moving automatically, sliding a clean shirt over the baby's head, wrapping her, replacing the supplies. But her expression was light years away.

"No," T'Pol finally said simply. T'Pau waited but nothing more came out.

"I see," T'Pau said. "Is he aware of your trellium induced neural damage?" T'Pol froze for 2.1 seconds.

"No." She finished putting things away and picked up T'Lissa. Turning to face T'Pau, she mustered the fortitude to look her in the eye. "I have not informed him of my condition."

"I am quite certain that your adun's involvement in this matter is far from finished," T'Pau told her. "It is not unlikely that he will be required to make decisions, and perhaps take action, on his own behalf as well as on behalf of you and your child. As Head of your House, he cannot make logically supportable decisions without complete information."

"Why do you bring these matters up now?" T'Pol asked with a touch of heat.

"You informed Koss before the wedding that you were ill," T'Pau reminded her, "but you did not specify the nature of your illness. You did not even tell your own mother. Had you done so, it is quite possible that the wedding would not have taken place. If this information is revealed during the investigation, it may weaken the argument that you were forced into the marriage unwillingly. Do you not think that your adun has the right to be warned of this?"

T'Pol looked at the floor. "I find myself reluctant to discuss this with him. The event that brought about my illness was the result of a grave error in judgment on my part. I would prefer to avoid lowering his opinion of me if it can be avoided."

T'Pau regarded her. "Do you truly believe that he will judge you harshly? I have gained the impression that Humans are remarkably broad minded people. In some ways perhaps too broad minded."

"I have never," T'Pol stopped for a moment. "I have never shared a mind meld with my adun. I fear that he may resent the fact that I have shared with another male something that I have never shared with him."

"Then meld with him," T'Pau tilted her head. "Why not? You are already bonded. A meld would simply shift the connection from the instinctive, primal centers of the brain to the upper, cognitive portions. And then only temporarily."

"If I did that he would learn..." T'Pol turned away.

"Of your trellium addiction," T'Pau finished for her. "That is your true fear. You think that if he discovered your former addiction to trellium he would turn from you in disgust. Perhaps even disown you as Koss did, leaving you to raise your child without a father. Or even, worst of all, leave and take your child with him."

T'Pol clenched her teeth. "I cannot take the risk."

"He is not your father T'Pol," T'Pau said softly. T'Pol whipped around to stare at her.

"What do you mean by that?" she demanded. T'Pau looked kindly at her distressed face.

"T'Les and I used to talk much as we searched the ruins together," T'Pau remembered. "She spoke of you, of her hopes and concerns for you. One thing I remember was how your father died when you were very young. T'Les was concerned because she detected signs that this had affected you more deeply than you were willing to acknowledge. You fear abandonment T'Pol. You fear the loss of those you love. Now, since T'Les has died, your fear has only grown."

"Should I not?" T'Pol's voice rose slightly. "He and my child are all I have left now. I will not risk losing them. Not for any reason."

T'Pau insisted. "But you should seriously consider the advantage of truth over deception."

"I am not lying to him," T'Pol snapped.

"You are operating with the intent of concealing the truth from him. That is the definition of deception," T'Pau pointed out implacably.

"This is a private matter," T'Pol said sharply, cutting the conversation off at the knees.

"Acknowledged, I will say no more." T'Pau bowed her head. "We should rejoin the others."

-&-

The Section 31 operative assigned permanently to Enterprise paid only cursory attention to his monitor. An occasional glace was plenty to keep him apprised of the comings and goings. Far more interesting were the transcribed recordings that flowed past his fingers on the PADD he held. It just proved once again, there was no more lucrative spot on any ship for scooping up information by the shovel full than the mess hall. A few scattered cameras, a microphone at each table, and he was in business.

There was no difficulty in obtaining massive mountains of muck. The problem lay in painstakingly poking through the pile to pick out the precious pebbles of pure platinum that were embedded in it. But treasure was most definitely to be found. Like that nifty little scheme that Jon and Malcolm had just hatched.

He grinned. That pair was so cute sometimes. It was actually not a bad attempt either. Logically, if you wanted to mobilize the entire security and MACO staff to hunt down two Terra Prime Sleepers, while not tipping them off that you knew they were on board, how better to do it?

It was going to keep the bloodhounds on the track. Meanwhile, it would make the real Sleepers nervous and prone to possible mistakes. They had to be wondering now. Were they suspected? But the cover story about Massaro and the attack on the Tucker house was good enough for an excuse. So they would be left guessing. And uncertain. And confused. If nothing else, they would not dare to actually initiate trouble.

Neatly done. Use your enemy's own momentum against him. Not bad for amateur work. Of course, Malcolm wasn't strictly an amateur. A beginner, but not an actual amateur. The lad had potential. Too bad he was cluttered with so many scruples.

He scowled as one of the targets stepped into view of the entrance camera. Offended pride still burned him when he thought of how Harris had forbidden him to eliminate the two of them unless no other option was available. As if he couldn't take care of those two without leaving tracks. He sniffed in disdain.

But Harris wanted to avoid any possibility of blowing his cover. Besides, the Section 31 brass thought it would be a good learning opportunity for Reed. The next time they needed to twist his arm, he would be that much better prepared to cope with the mission.

Time to get back to work. He put down the PADD and replaced the camera view with a standard inventory list, just in case someone wandered in. Not much chance of that anyway, but he was too old and wily to take anything for granted. Then he stood up and pasted on his trademark expression. Couldn't disappoint his public after all.

With a high profile position like his, he had to be constantly aware of appearances. A janitor could afford to look distracted, or disappear into his supply closet for half a shift. Not him. He had to be out front and available when called for. So get with it soldier. He grimaced. How many years had it been? No matter.

As he opened the door to his tiny office he idly wondered what would happen if his cover ever did get blown. Not a good idea, he decided. There would no doubt be mass heart failure, and there were only three defib units on the whole ship. He was supposed to be here to prevent carnage, not cause it.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Father to the Man**

by Blackn'blue (aka Bluenblack)

**Warning:** Violence, Adult Language, Adult Situations, Rampant Sexism, Politically Incorrect Social Commentary, Uncouth Fashion Sense, Scary Old Ladies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Description: **This is the third story in my series that began with For Want of A Nail and continued with In the Cold of the Night. I suggest reading those before tackling this one. Otherwise many of the references won't make any sense. This story was originally posted to the Trip/T'Poler's section of the House of Tucker (HoT) website in eight parts on November 2006, December 2006 and February 2007. Like I explained in my first posting, the whole thing started as a simple stand-alone story that got completely out of hand.

**Note:** Vulcan words used in this story were either stolen wholesale from the Vulcan Language Dictionary at /vld/, the online Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

* * *

Chapter 3

T'Pol carried the baby back into the front room, just in time to hear Kuvak say, "There will be no difficulty about contacting the Vahklas, Commander Tucker. Let me know whenever you are ready to send a message and I will arrange it." She nearly stumbled with the baby in her arms. T'Pol felt a light touch from T'Pau on her arm, steadying her.

Trip turned in alarm at the bolt of fear he detected coming through the bond. Before he could say anything she demanded, "Why would you wish to contact the Vahklas?"

Trip looked carefully at his wife. "I might be sending a message to Kov. You remember Kov don't you? The engineer? He's Kuvak's son."

Trip couldn't sort out the tangled mass of feelings that suddenly surged through the bond. Relief, fear, frustration, concern, shame, anger, worry. All of these were mixed together in a snarled up tangle of emotion. Then suddenly everything cut off sharply as T'Pol snapped her end of the bond tightly closed.

Trip deferred comment. The longer they stayed bonded, the harder it was becoming to tell where T'Pol's emotions stopped and his emotions began. The woman that he had once mentally dubbed 'ice queen' was, beneath her hard won facade, a swirling cauldron of passion that sometimes made Trip feel like a placid pond. It really got interesting when they both dropped their barriers and the feedback loop took off. Like during sex...

He shook his head, earning a curious look from the other men, and returned to the conversation. "When Enterprise gets here I will make a point to visit Hess and talk to her about Kov. Like I said, it's a little bit touchy for Humans. Better to let me handle the initial approach. Then, if they start talking to each other and seem interested, it would be appropriate for Kov to introduce her to you and get your blessing."

A cool breeze trickled through the bond. The barest hint of relief. Trip smiled to himself. "_No, hun," _he thought, "_I wasn't setting up to hunt him down. Of course, if the Vahklas happens to show up and Tolaris happens to still be on it, and I happen to pass within striking range, well then. That will be a whole different kettle of fish."_

"Lieutenant Commander Hess is an exemplary officer and an honorable person," T'Pol volunteered. "She would be a credit to any House." T'Lissa started kicking and issuing urgent grunts, so T'Pol dug into the bag after her bottle. A soon as the nipple got within range, the greedy little goblin latched on like a barnacle and started guzzling.

T'Para remarked, "I see that the resemblance to her Sa-Mekh extends farther than superficial appearance." T'Pol quirked an eyebrow curiously while Ganlas and Kuvak pasted on carefully blank looks.

T'Pau settled down beside Kuvak and said, "The Vahklas has been in deep space for several years. It is unfortunate that they have seen fit to avoid any contact with our ships or colonies." The Chief Minister looked irritated. "Many of the reasons for their departure no longer apply. Melding is no longer forbidden. Those members of the V'Tosh Katur who practice the art could now return to Vulcan and learn the proper techniques to avoid injuring themselves and others." Her glance flickered to T'Pol, who did not meet her eye.

Trip carefully did not react, to T'Pol's heartfelt relief. She had recoiled in real fear after telling Trip about what Tolaris had done to her during their mind meld. The sheer animal savagery of his murderous rage was as intense as any Vulcan male's would have been. Since that day a lurking worry had dwelt in the back of T'Pol's mind, concerning what Trip would do if he ever encountered Tolaris again.

"There are still many aspects of their lifestyle that conflict with the Kir'Shara," Kuvak said bitterly. "I have repeatedly tried to discuss this with Kov, but to no avail. Every attempt results in adding to the friction between us. Finally I stopped even trying."

Trip couldn't help grinning. "Like eating meat. I will never forget the look on Captain Archer's face when Tavin asked him to pass the chicken. I thought T'Pol was gonna to bust a blood vessel." None of the Vulcan's shared his amusement.

"It is a barbaric practice," Kuvak declared in revulsion. Suddenly recalling that he was talking to a Human, he quickly added, "I speak only for Vulcans, Commander. I would not presume to pass judgment on any other species."

"No offense," Trip assured him. "T'Pol has just about talked me down to the bare minimum level of meat in my diet anyway, for health reasons. Although I still crave it pretty bad sometimes, I am starting to get used to surviving with only a few bites occasionally."

"Your meat craving, like your craving for sugar," T'Pol lectured him, "is a holdover from your ancestor's struggle for food in the hostile conditions of an ice age. If you consumed all the flesh and sugar that your appetite craves, you would literally eat yourself to death."

"Yes ma'am," Trip bowed his head with a smile. "You are correct of course. On scientific matters you always are."

"It is agreeable to hear you finally acknowledge it," she told him primly.

"Engineering, not so much," Trip added, sipping his third root beer. T'Pol shot him a glare.

"If I may return to the subject that brought us here," Ganlas interjected delicately, "I would like to ask T'Pol something. Did Koss, at any time prior to or during your marriage, mention V'Rald by name in conjunction with the intimidation against your mother? If not before the wedding, perhaps afterward while the two of you were alone together during the period of seclusion?"

T'Pol closed her eyes in pain. The sickening wave that came crashing through her barriers from her adun was very nearly more than she could endure. Through clenched teeth she managed to force out, "Please be precise in your language krei. The period of seclusion is part of the wedding itself. The ceremony is not considered complete until the day and night of seclusion is over." She did not open her eyes. This was not going to be a good night. Not good at all.

Ganlas was puzzled, but willing to comply. "Of course. Strictly speaking you are correct, although most commonly the public portion of the ceremony is referred to as the wedding itself. But the seclusion is certainly integral to the ritual. In any case, did Koss mention V'Rald at any point during this time?"

"Only to state that he would speak to V'Rald on my mother's behalf," T'Pol said weakly. She licked her lips hesitantly and looked at Trip, hoping against hope that he would be able to maintain control until they could reach privacy. No such luck, although by Human standards he was doing a desperate job trying. But he couldn't stop the look in his eyes.

When her adun raised his head to meet her glance, T'Pol wanted to turn and run away. Far away. Instead she sat and met his eyes steadily, silently sending him strength, and love, and reassurance through the bond with everything she had.

He didn't believe her. She could feel the bitterness of his distrust feeding back through the connection between them. She wanted to howl in grief. Not this, not now. Of all things, she didn't need this. And of all times for it to come up, she did not need this now. Trip was thinking that she had lied to him, and she couldn't explain it here.

T'Lissa felt the turmoil. Ordinarily the parental bond was no more than a dimly felt background noise to the tiny one. Her natural self-absorption insulated her from the ordinary mood shifts of daily life between her mother and father. Even their rare arguments left her mostly unfazed. But not this time. The tornado of dark passion that ripped and tore back and forth between them was leaving emotional devastation in its wake, and shook the baby to her tender little core.

She spit the nipple and started screaming in distress. Instantly T'Pol clamped down on her end of the mating bond and initiated the kohlinar disciplines. She hugged T'Lissa close and murmured softly her, rocking gently and reaching through the maternal bond to calm her. Trip leaned back and unobtrusively started working through the basic breathing exercises that he used to achieve the first level meditation that T'Pol had taught him. He reached over and put two fingers on T'Lissa's face, sending love and warm protectiveness. Her screams soon tapered off into pitiful sobbing.

T'Para stood up. "Trip. T'Pol. Bring the baby and come with me. Now." They stood up dispirited and followed her without argument. The Eldest Mother led them down the hallway to the same bedroom T'Pol had used for a changing area. Once inside she closed the door and demanded, "Explain. And don't try to evade my questions. I have no time for foolish games."

"Ask T'Pol," Trip snarled. T'Lissa jumped and whined, and Trip's expressed twisted into shame and distress. He put his hand over his face and started deep breathing again. "I'm sorry. I'm upset. I think I should take a walk to clear my head. My Human lack of control is causing this. Where is your back door?"

Before T'Para could answer him, T'Pol cut in, "I did not lie to you Trip. I told you that after the ceremony was complete I went to spend the rest of my time meditating alone. This was the absolute truth."

"Yeah." He did not look at her. "Where is the back door T'Para?"

"You are not leaving yet Trip," the old lady told him.

"The hell I'm not," he growled. Trip strode toward the room's doorway and T'Para sidestepped to block him. He stopped in disbelief and stared at her.

"Nothing happened that night Trip." T'Pol started talking fast. "I swear it. Nothing happened. Koss wanted to seal our bonding during the seclusion by mating, but I refused him. I told him that I would not mate with him until the Pon Farr. I did not want him ashayam. You were the one I wanted then, and you are the one I want now. I did not lie to you and I have never betrayed our bond."

"Sure," he turned quickly and strode away from the door. Before either of the women realized his intent, Trip made a running leap to the sill of the room's single window and pulled himself through. He crouched on the sill for a second, then dropped to the gravel outside. They heard his footsteps crunching as he walked quickly away.

T'Pol stood stunned and immobile, staring after her husband. T'Para blinked twice and her nostrils twitched. "A remarkably emotional man. Is he always this way?"

"No," T'Pol said dully. "He is not. I am the cause."

"Because of your bond?" T'Para asked.

"Yes," T'Pol bowed her head. "Human emotions are not as powerful as ours. When my control slips, it overwhelms my adun's mastery of himself."

T'Para considered this. "Have you attempted to instruct him in the disciplines of Surak?"

"He cannot follow the path of arie'mnu," T'Pol told her. "No Human can. Their bodies are constructed such that emotions must be expressed and purged. Otherwise the energy they generate will turn inward and inflict self-destructive damage."

T'Para walked over and sat down on the bed. She pointed to a spot beside her and ordered T'Pol, "Sit child." T'Pol sat. "Explain why you lost control of yourself so severely that your adun was driven to this extreme. Explain why your bond was thrown into such turmoil that T'Lissa became terrified." Her tone left no doubt that she wasn't requesting, she was issuing a command as Eldest Mother.

T'Pol reluctantly told T'Para how the bond between Trip and herself was formed in the Expanse. She explained that they were both unaware of it at the time of her marriage to Koss. T'Para heard this and, to T'Pol's absolute incredulity, snorted and shook her head. "Continue girl," she snapped impatiently. T'Pol's mouth worked silently a few times before she finally managed to produce sounds again.

"When I returned to Enterprise, I could barely bring myself to face Trip." T'Pol did not raise her eyes from the baby. "He, being Human, assumed that Koss and I had spent the time after our wedding together. I wanted him to understand that I did not stay with Koss any longer than I absolutely was required to do. And because the seclusion period was an unpleasant memory, I did not bring it up. I considered it irrelevant. As I told Trip, we spent a day and a night in the same house. But that is all we did. We did not mate."

"From your adun's reaction, he seems to doubt that."

"I know." T'Pol stood up and carried T'Lissa over to the window. Trip was nowhere to be seen. She concentrated hard. A bare flicker of awareness came to her. He was walking down the street. Walking fast. Hot. Tired. Too hot. He needed to slow down. She started to worry. He was thirsty, the sensation of dry throat and mouth came through clearly. His vision was blurring. She tried to send him a calling to return. If he heard her, he ignored it.

Unless she was in meditation, or Trip was asleep, there was no way to establish an actual conversational link through the bond. Even when she was meditating Trip had to be in a receptive state of mind. She could not force him to listen to her if he chose to refuse her connection.

The mating bond was far, far older than conscious thought. The connection between male and female was made at the lower levels of the brain, at the emotional, instinctive centers of the nervous system. Emotions and physical needs could be transmitted with perfect clarity. Simple desires like lust and loneliness could also be transmitted. But more complicated thoughts and concepts were almost impossible.

"Why does he not believe you, T'Pol? Have you lied to him before?" T'Para was implacable.

"No!" She spoke sharply. "I have never lied to him." T'Pol did not turn away from the window. T'Para looked thoughtfully at her back while T'Lissa, worn from all the excitement and suddenly remembering her interrupted bottle, started fussing again.

T'Para stood up. "I will bring the baby's supplies and inform the others that you will be indisposed for the rest of the afternoon. Tend your child and rest here until Trip returns."

T'Pol did not protest her instructions.

-&-

Corporal Pablo Farouk slid the door to his quarters aside and stepped through with relief. A long shift this time, especially with the extra duty tracking those blasted infiltrators.

He grinned. Ensign Baker really put his foot in it today. Fingering Chef for unauthorized access to the rear panels of the re-sequencing processors wasn't the smartest move he ever made. Turned out that the old geezer was just setting out some traps for a mouse that hitched a ride with the last load of supplies from Earth.

Farouk chuckled as he peeled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it on his bunk. For a minute he was sure that Chef would take his biggest iron skillet and hammer the Ensign right down into the deck plates. He started to unfasten his pants and felt something cold and wet hit his back.

"Gotcha!" A triumphant female voice cried. Corporal Farouk spun in a crouch and saw Ensign Hoshi Sato leaning gleefully out of his locker with a squirt gun in her hand. "Direct hit."

A deep flush spread over his face and neck as she emerged. "Sorry to intrude like this Corporal, but Commander Reed told us to get creative. He also said to feel free to use any tactic that a real intruder might use, and I didn't think a real assassin would hesitate to break into someone's private quarters."

Farouk stood up and said between his teeth, "You are absolutely right Ensign Sato. You nailed me fair and square. My compliments. A quick, efficient kill." Inwardly he cursed himself. "_Idiot. You didn't even think to check the locker. You knew there are people on this ship small enough to fit inside there, and you didn't even think to check. Major Hayes would have booted your stupid ass out the airlock just as you stand right now, half naked."_

Hoshi walked over to the intercom. "Sato to Reed."

"_Reed here"_

"Mission accomplished Lieutenant Commander," Hoshi said proudly. "My target is eliminated."

"_Congratulations Ensign,"_ Malcolm's voice sounded even dryer than usual. "_Is Corporal Farouk there with you?"_

"Affirmative Commander," Farouk replied stiffly.

"_Good,"_ was all Malcolm said. "_You have earned the right to pick the next movie night selection Ensign. And it doesn't matter whether it is Casablanca, or Breakfast at Tiffany's, or even, Saint's forbid, The Bridges of Madison County. Corporal Farouk's entire team will be sitting there on the front row watching it. Bright eyed and bushy tailed. Won't they Corporal?"_

"Yes, Sir," Farouk replied glumly.

-&-

After three blocks Trip stopped to prop up against a privacy wall and pant like a dog. T'Pol's presence in the back of his mind kept nudging him to turn around. He ignored it.

"_How much more of this shit does she expect me to eat?"_ he thought angrily. "_All I ever asked her to do was be straight with me. Was that too much?"_

He remembered T'Lissa screaming and almost sank to the ground in pain and shame. He had hurt his little girl. The whole purpose of his existence was to protect his family, and he ended up hurting them. Trip turned and leaned his head on his arm, resting against the cool stone of the wall for a few minutes to let his heartbeat slow down. He had to think. No more reacting. Time to decide where he was going.

First things first. He needed some food and drink and a chance to rest someplace cool. Trip pushed away from the wall and aimed for the nearest subsurface transport terminal. He summoned a cube, boarded it, and in rancid Vulcan directed it to head for the Earth embassy. Eleven minutes later he stepped out and painfully dragged himself up the spiral ramp to the gates of the Human compound.

The automatic scanners ran over him and cross-referenced the database. Identity: Tucker, Charles. Affiliation: Starfleet. Rank: Commander. Current Assignment: Detached R&D on Vulcan. The gates clicked and slid open to let him pass without an argument.

Entering the mall was like stepping into an icebox. Actually the temperature in the compound buildings was maintained at four degrees centigrade above human average, to avoid shocking the systems of personnel who needed to come and go regularly. But it felt cold to someone who had been living with Vulcan's natural temperatures.

Trip turned and headed for the main promenade, where the coffee shop was located. He got a tall cup of double strength java and found a corner table to brood at. Sitting down and propping his feet up in the empty chair next to him was the best thing that had happened to him all day. Now what though? Trip sipped the deliciously bitter brew and considered his next move.

Going back to T'Para's did not appeal to him for some reason. Going anywhere did not appeal to him for some reason. Neither did sitting here for that matter, but it offered the advantage of inertia. Just when he thought he was starting to get a handle on things here, it blew up in his face.

When he found out T'Pau already knew about the crap Koss pulled, Trip felt like he had dodged a bullet. Maybe he wouldn't have to be crucified after all. Which felt great for all of maybe fifteen minutes.

She really had spent a wedding night with the son of a bitch. Why didn't she just tell him that up front? Did T'Pol actually enjoy holding out on him? She swore she never screwed the guy. Right. So why then did it feel like she was lying? Why was his gut screaming at him that she was hiding something?

Trip laughed bitterly. He didn't have any right to complain. She married the guy. You get married, you spend the night together. It's just the way things are done, right? Maybe when she went back to the ship and saw him mooning around with his lip dragging the deck, she just decided to take pity on him.

Trip rubbed his forehead. Fine. It was over and done with. There was no reason to let it get to him this way. What was wrong with him anyway? Why did he let her do this to him? No other woman he had ever known could reach down inside him and twist his guts this way. Idiot. She was inside his head, of course she could reach down inside him. He took another slug of coffee and realized that he had emptied the cup already.

Maybe a swim would help, since he was already here. It couldn't hurt anything. He got up and tossed the cup into the recycling slot. A few hard laps would at least work off some adrenaline.

-&-

Doctor Phlox puttered along the row of shelves with his PADD, going down the list of supplies. His inventory of drugs and reagents required almost constant updating. Especially since some of the more exotic potions that he extracted from his pets had a shelf life of mere hours.

He stopped at a locked cabinet and looked more closely. One of the bottles looked odd. The shape was slightly wrong. So was the color. Phlox keyed in the security code and opened the door to find that one of his reserve stocks of aspirin had been replaced with flour. A label on the side of the bottle requested that he report his discovery to Lieutenant Commander Reed at his earliest convenience.

Phlox's lips twitched. Oh this game was starting to become quite amusing. As long as they stayed out of his really important supplies of course. He dutifully ambled over to the comm and hit the button. "Phlox to Commander Reed."

In the Armory, Malcolm reached over and keyed the switch at his station. "Reed here. Go ahead Doctor."

"_It seems that I have been involved in an unauthorized exchange. The label said to let you know about it."_

"Ah. Thank you Doctor. That means they were successful in phase one of their assignment. Phase two requires them to get it to a shuttle pod and conceal it, in order to simulate smuggling it off the ship. Thank you Doctor. Reed out." He cut the connection, then hit the switch again. "Reed to Crewman Kenj."

"_Kenj here."_

"Intruders have stolen valuable biomaterials from sickbay. We have reason to believe that they will attempt to smuggle this material aboard one of the shuttle pods in order to get it off the ship. Intercept them if you can."

"_Yes! Sir!"_

Malcolm looked over at Lieutenant Tran and shared a grin with her at the enthusiasm in the young man's voice. Kenj was one of the newest arrivals on Enterprise. Straight out of training and still sopping wet behind the ears. But he was absolutely on fire to prove himself. Malcolm tried to keep the twinge of sadness at bay while he wondered how long it would last.

"At least for now he's having fun," Tran pointed out, causing Malcolm to wonder once more if she was telepathic. They chuckled together and returned to the perpetual job of fine tuning the targeting sensors.

-&-

T'Para returned from delivering the supplies to T'Pol and seated herself. "Are they well?" T'Pau asked in concern.

"Physically, T'Pol and the baby seem well. I cannot speak for Trip since he has removed himself for a time." T'Para stopped for a while to consider something. "I do not believe that either of them will be able to deal with more questions today. A private matter has come up that must be dealt with."

"Of course," Ganlas acquiesced. "Have them contact me when they are ready to resume." He stood up and offered the ta'al gesture. "Live long and prosper." The three of them returned appropriate sentiments and watched him depart.

"Is there any way that we can be of assistance?" T'Pau wanted to know. "It is not acceptable for this situation to be allowed to interfere with T'Lissa's development."

T'Para gave them both a look from beneath her eyebrows. "It is less a matter of the situation than it is a case of how it is being handled."

T'Pau's eyebrows drew together slightly. " I have already intruded by suggesting to T'Pol that she should be more open with her adun. Is the current difficulty related to that?"

T'Para looked at Kuvak. He stirred and rose. "My presence is plainly no longer required. Please do not hesitate to call upon me if I can be of assistance in this matter or any other Lady T'Para. Aside from the debt that all of Vulcan owes to the daughter of your house and her adun, I personally owe Trip a significant debt of honor for his assistance in mending the rift between my son and myself. I will gladly do anything within my power to aid them." He looked at T'Pau.

"Chief Minister, I will meet with you at the Council offices this evening. Until then, peace and long life to you both." Kuvak walked out the front door, meeting his body guard halfway to the front gate. The massive portal closed behind them with a soft click, leaving the two women to consult with each other undisturbed.

"What do you know of this situation, T'Pau?" T'Para demanded. She did not use the chief Minister's official title, indicating that this was a personal conversation. That being the case, T'Pau was under extraordinary pressure to comply with her inquiry. As Eldest Mother of T'Pol's clan, T'Para wielded authority equivalent to that of a feudal lord when it came to the welfare of her kin.

It took a while, but eventually T'Para got the whole story. Afterward they sat together in silence for a time. "He knows that she is hiding something from him," T'Pau finally pointed out.

"Of course he knows," T'Para snapped impatiently. "He is her bond mate. How can she think he would not feel it? He may not be able to delve into her thoughts and draw the information out, but he can certainly detect her discomfort with certain subjects. The child is behaving foolishly."

"As long as she continues to withhold information, their bond will suffer discord," T'Pau informed the older woman. "Ever since the incident with Captain Archer..." Even in private, Surak's katra was not a subject to be discussed openly or lightly. "I have been studying Human psychology. Humans, especially Human males, tend to be suspicious and territorial. Hiding something is the surest possible way to convince them that one has a guilty secret."

"Yet another point of similarity between our people," T'Para remarked. "Vulcan males are the same." T'Pau raised an eyebrow and she added firmly, "You will discover the truth once you have taken a mate daughter. The more I learn of Trip, the more I am struck by his resemblance to my own sons." T'Para allowed her control to slip to the point of letting her nostrils flare and actually rubbed her upper lip briefly, equivalent to anyone else tearing their hair out.

"T'Pol informed me that Humans are physically required to express and purge their emotions, or face damaging health consequences," T'Para mentioned.

"I believe that is correct," T'Pau responded.

"Small wonder then, that he exhibited such extreme reactions at the gathering, and again today. With her own control compromised by the trellium damage, T'Pol's emotions must be quite overwhelming to him. Without the disciplines of arie'mnu to support him, his only recourse would be to depend on raw willpower. One could hardly expect him to maintain full control under such circumstances." T'Para looked disgusted. "And yet she allowed the boy to sit there and take the blame for his emotional display at the gathering. I think it is time that you left, T'Pau. I must discuss some matters with the daughter of my house."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Father to the Man**

by Blackn'blue (aka Bluenblack)

**Warning:** Violence, Adult Language, Adult Situations, Rampant Sexism, Politically Incorrect Social Commentary, Uncouth Fashion Sense, Scary Old Ladies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Description: **This is the third story in my series that began with For Want of A Nail and continued with In the Cold of the Night. I suggest reading those before tackling this one. Otherwise many of the references won't make any sense. This story was originally posted to the HoT website in eight parts on November 2006, December 2006 and February 2007. As I explained in my first posting, the whole series started as a simple stand-alone story that got completely out of hand.

**Note:** Vulcan words used in this story were either stolen wholesale from the Vulcan Language Dictionary at /vld/, the online Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

* * *

Chapter 4

Koss bowed his head over his cup of tea in resignation. "I understand, Mother. You were trying to help. If the letter had worked it would certainly have expedited things, just as you intended."

V'Rald scowled at his sister-in-law. "It would have simplified matters had you bothered to inform someone else in the family of this letter, L'Sira." He got up from his desk and paced over to the window. The view from his tenth story office was majestic. The entire city of Shi'kahr spread out before him, an elegantly logical arrangement of streets, buildings and parks all exquisitely planned for aesthetic balance.

L'Sira bristled and leaned forward in her chair. "Betrothal arrangements are the responsibility of the parents, V'Rald. There is no custom that requires notifying the rest of the family when sending a letter to my son's intended wife."

V'Rald smoldered. Upon his father's death, Koss had assumed control of his property. Among other things this included several critical manufacturing facilities. Since Koss was without training or experience of any kind in manufacturing, V'Rald had been forced by circumstance into incorporating his deceased brother's holdings into his own sphere of responsibility. However, Koss was still nominally in charge of his father's property under the letter of the law.

Moreover L'Sira, in her typically domineering fashion, could never restrain herself from asserting her (completely uninformed) influence over her son. The whole situation left V'Rald spending a significant amount of his lifespan cleaning up behind them. It was not feasible for him to simply walk away. That would leave the factories in direct control of Koss and the boy was, if such be possible, an even greater fool than his mother.

"It is, however, customary to notify the rest of the family," V'Rald bit out the words, "when formally severing a betrothal. Which is what your letter amounted to."

"How was I to know that the girl was going to show it to anyone?" L'Sira protested indignantly. V'Rald closed his eyes in real pain. "One does not ordinarily go around proudly displaying evidence of one's dishonorable failure to live up to one's obligations."

V'Rald held tightly to his patience. "Did it not occur to you that even a Human starship crew would be competent enough to intercept clandestine messages beamed to their ship? Why did you not simply send it through normal channels? That way none of the Humans would have bothered with it. Only the fact that it was encrypted caught their attention in the first place."

"I still don't believe that they actually intercepted it themselves, Uncle," Koss objected. "Vanik would have been careful to mask it with another signal. And even if they did, it would have been impossible for them to decrypt the message without T'Pol's assistance. She must have deliberately showed it to Tucker. Beyond any doubt, they were lovers even then. Why else would she have refused me?"

V'Rald shot him a disgusted look. "You are making the supremely foolish mistake of underestimating your opponent Koss. Humans have been using complex cryptography in their wars for centuries. And Archer, the captain of of the ship that T'Pol served aboard, is suspicious of Vulcans to the point of paranoia. He would certainly have ordered his communications officer to monitor all transmissions from the Ti'Mur very closely."

For the rest of it, privately V'Rald considered that refusing Koss merely proved the girl's intelligence. Both of his daughter's husbands already bore obligations for their own clans that required significant time commitments. Otherwise V'Rald would long since have washed his hands of his brother's mate and her offspring.

"They can prove nothing," Koss dissembled quickly, masking his discomfort and pouring himself and his mother another cup of tea. "All they have is the unsupported word of some Humans. T'Pol is involved as a principle, therefore her testimony is automatically suspect. It is her word against mine. Without the actual letter anything else they say is irrelevant."

V'Rald stared. Could it be possible that the boy was truly this stupid? Yes. It was. No matter. "The situation cannot be resolved through direct confrontation," V'Rald pronounced. "If it progresses that far we have already lost. The fact that the questions have even been raised is already damaging us. We must either discredit Tucker, or refocus his attention away from this matter. Since he waited this long to seek revenge against Koss, it is probably not a high priority to him. We should be able to find some way to deflect him."

"Why do you care about this Human?" L'Sira waved a hand dismissively. "Aside from being married to T'Pol, what relevance can he have?"

V'Rald seriously considered appointing a trustee to oversee his holdings until his grandsons came of age. That way he could rid himself of them both and have some peace in his life.

"Wife of my departed brother," V'Rald said condescendingly, "I will attempt to explain this in simple terms. First of all, the High Council credits this Human with almost single-handedly preventing war between our people and the Andorians. In addition, his oldest and closest friend is Jonathon Archer, the Human who rumors tell was chosen by Syran himself to bear the katra of Surak across the Forge to the Sanctuary so that the Kirshara could be found. Do you begin to understand now?"

"Ridiculous," L'Sira snapped defensively. "The very idea that Surak's katra could be-"

"Ridiculous it may be," V'Rald talked over her. "But the facts remain that the Kirshara was found, V'Las was overthrown, and the new High Council values Archer highly. In addition, the High Council wishes to tighten the alliance with Earth in order to preempt the Andorians. And Tucker, indeed also T'Pol and every other member of the Enterprise crew who went into the Expanse, are revered by the Humans as heroes who saved their planet. That is the reality we must deal with."

Koss brooded. "He is emotionally unstable and easily provoked. If he attacked me no one could justifiably complain if I defended myself." He raised a significant eyebrow at his uncle, who shook his head wearily.

"Again, Koss, you underestimate your opponent. He is a trained and experienced officer with sixteen years experience, who has spent most of the last year in combat conditions. You are an architect. He has fought for his life many times and prevailed, I have checked his service record and confirmed this. You have never seen battle. He grew up killing animals for meat. You have never killed anything. The only time you have ever held a weapon was during your ritual training. And of course during basic training for your term of service with the fleet, where you served planet-side as a design technician." V'Rald declared with finality, "He would kill you."

"I have three times his strength, and twice his stamina!" Koss allowed irritation to appear on his face.

"Strength is of no use to one who has no idea how to apply it effectively," V'Rald sneered. "Otherwise how do you think that our primitive ancestors routinely managed to kill wild animals much stronger than they were, using nothing more than sharp rocks?"

"And your stamina will avail you nothing if you are dead. If you had any experience you would realize that most actual fights are not long drawn out affairs. A single blow delivered at the correct place and time can end a struggle very quickly. Nor does it necessarily need to be an especially powerful blow. Not if it is delivered to a vulnerable point." V'Rald stepped close and suddenly thrust his fist under Koss' chin, stopping a millimeter short of his larynx.

The younger man jumped backward in the chair, caught by surprise. "You see?" V'Rald said, and allowed himself to sigh. "Abandon any thought of facing a trained fighter in single combat." He went back to his desk and sat down, rubbing his chin pensively.

"I could easily train and practice," Koss grumbled stubbornly, still stung over the way Trip had humiliated him at the gathering. V'Rald ran out of patience.

"A lifetime of practice will not make you what Tucker is – a natural killer. A substantial portion of any fight is psychological. You have spent the last sixty years being conditioned to suppress and control your natural aggression, Koss. You are a Vulcan, bred to peace." V'Rald was so irritated that he let his voice raise slightly.

"I told you, boy, he grew up hunting animals for meat. Humans are predators, as we are. But unlike our people, they have not spent centuries working hard to suppress those instincts. When your father and I were young men, those savages were still in the midst of a planetary war as destructive as anything our ancestors engaged in prior to the Reformation."

"That just means that he lacks discipline and control," Koss doggedly maintained.

V'Rald eyed him coldly. "At the gathering, when he confronted you, do you remember his reaction?"

"Yes, of course," Koss replied stiffly. V'Rald's eye's narrowed.

"But did you extrapolate what it implied? No sooner had you spoken than his hand was moving for his blade, Koss," V'Rald intoned slowly and distinctly. "His first and most powerful reflex was to reach for a weapon. You are conditioned to automatically use logic and seek a peaceful solution. He is conditioned to seek battle. For the past four years he has been facing, over and over again, beings who were attempting to kill him. Blade or club, energy weapon or torpedo, the principle is the same. To win a fight to the death one must have the mindset that is ready and willing to strike without hesitating and without mercy. You are conditioned to value and cherish all life. The only life that he will cherish in a fight is his own."

"Are they really that dangerous?" L'Sira asked doubtfully. "You make them sound like Klingons, or Orion raiders." V'Rald shot her a look from the corner of his eyes.

"They are just as deadly. Why do you think the High Command kept such a tight rein on them for so many years, L'Sira? Three times Humans have faced Klingons in battle. Three times the Klingons have been defeated. Does that tell you anything, wife of my brother?"

"Then what do you suggest, wisely arrogant one?" L'Sira demanded. She straightened her shawl to cover her uncertainty. V'Rald glanced back and forth between them with suddenly narrowed eyes as a memory came to him.

"My operatives have been investigating Tucker, looking for weaknesses. There is something unexplained about this situation," V'Rald said thoughtfully. "T'Pol came home and took up residence at her clan's mountain retreat, supposedly to seek solitude in mourning for the clone that the Human xenophobes crafted. Shortly afterward, Tucker joined her." He paused. "Why then, did a large group from her clan assemble at the retreat only days later?"

"Perhaps... a memorial?" L'Sira offered uncertainly.

"For a _clone?_," V'Rald demanded incredulously. "If it were a natural born child I might grant the possibility. But an unnatural abomination like a cross-species binary clone? One that was not even viable? Hardly. Even if T'Pol and Tucker were grieving for it, the rest of her clan could not have been so lost to propriety."

"I was told at the gathering," Koss said, "that the child they adopted was the only survivor of an air car crash by members of her clan. Perhaps the meeting was an examination to determine their fitness."

"Perhaps," V'Rald looked surprised at hearing such a logical suggestion coming out of Koss' mouth. "Yet there are other questions. The personal information files for all three of them are sealed and classified as Top Secret - Eyes Only for High Council members. Their retreat is patrolled at all times by a full squad from the Security Directorate. Moreover, that adopted child of theirs is being subjected to a remarkably intense degree of medical attention, far more than is usual or logical. One of the Science Directorate's most distinguished Healers has been re-assigned by the High Council itself. I believe this bears more in-depth investigation. Perhaps we may find something in these matters to divert interest away from our business dealings entirely."

-&-

T'Para tapped on the door lightly with her fingertips, then opened it and slipped inside the bedroom without waiting for an invitation. T'Pol was feeding the baby and looking woebegone. T'Para firmly squelched a desire to take them both in a comforting hug. Instead she briskly relieved T'Pol of her armload, reinserting the nipple with only a brief interruption. T'Lissa only had time to kick once and start a brief, "Wa-," before the plug went back in. T'Para sat back down and looked at T'Pol sternly, while at the same time she surreptitiously extended her telepathic sense to keep the baby soothed.

"Where is Trip now?" T'Para asked softly.

T'Pol swallowed. "I believe that he is swimming, which would mean that he has gone to the Human compound. He frequently makes use of the facilities there." T'Para nodded and stroked T'Lissa's temple with two fingers, putting her into a light trance and preventing any emotional disturbance from reaching her.

"The others have left," T'Para told her. "We must talk. Sit quietly and listen to me very carefully T'Pol." The old lady's voice was like velvet wrapped around steel. T'Pol looked at her with wounded eyes and sat down beside her.

T'Para took a deep breath and reminded herself that sometimes pain must be endured before healing could begin. Then she said in formal High Vulcan, {"Daughter of my Clan, thy logic has failed thee."}

T'Pol actually cringed. {"I hear Eldest Mother. I await thy judgment."}

T'Para regarded her. {"It is not my judgment that should concern thee. I am not the one that thou hast wronged."}

T'Pol brought both her hands up to cover her face. Her breathing sounded loud in the otherwise silent room for several seconds. Then she lowered her hands and faced the Eldest Mother with dignity.

{"Eldest Mother. I beseech that thou speak plainly. What wrong have I committed? I have broken no oath. I have spoken no untruth. I have betrayed no trust. I have taken nothing that was not mine by right. How have I offended?"} T'Pol looked her in the eye. Wavering, but she did not look away. T'Para gave her credit for determination.

{"Hast thou in truth betrayed no trust?"} T'Para asked her gently. She let the question hang in the air between them for a time. {"Dost not thine adun trust thee with his very life and katra? Hast thou cherished his heart and his mind in the bond of mates as is thy duty?"}

{"I do and I have. Always and forever."} T'Pol sat up defiantly.

T'Para asked softly, {"Hast thou in truth? Then hast thou warned him of the danger that awaits him? Hast thou told him of the power of thine uncontrolled emotions because of the damage that thou hast inflicted upon thyself? Hast thou striven to give him all possible aid in dealing with this?"}

She folded her arms across her belly and leaned forward. T'Para kept two fingers on the baby's face, carefully shielding the tiny mind and shunting aside her mother's pain. Relentlessly T'Para went on, {"Between mates there can be no secrets. For secrets spawn mistrust, and mistrust spawns discord. Thy duty was clear from the first, Daughter of my Clan. Yet thou hast evaded it and caused thine adun who trusted thee to suffer the consequences. This can no more be tolerated."}

T'Pol stopped breathing. "What do you mean?" She straightened up and stared wild-eyed at T'Para.

The Eldest Mother considered the younger woman and noted her faint trembling. {"Thou must inform thy mate of the truth. Thou must henceforth and forever abandon the path of deception. To do less dishonors thy mate, thyself, thy House, and thy Clan."}

"I cannot." She stood up quickly and paced across the room. "You don't understand. I cannot tell him this. He will never forgive me. I will lose him, T'Lissa will lose her father. I cannot tell him this."

{"Lose him, Daughter? He is thy bonded mate. Thy katras are joined. Only death can separate thee. Thy logic hath fled thee utterly."}

T'Pol burst out, "I will lose his respect! I will lose his love!" She wrung her hands together uncertainly and paced back and forth across the room. "You do not understand. I failed him. I failed all of them. In the Delphic Expanse, at a time when they were fighting for the very survival of their world, I fell to weakness and allowed myself to become enslaved to a drug. They trusted me Eldest Mother. Trip trusted me and I failed him!"

T'Para spoke sternly, {"Thy fear hath blinded thee daughter. Surak teaches us to cast out fear before all else. Nothing can be done until fear is cast out."}

"They died because of me! Because I made mistakes! Because my judgment was flawed, because I had lost control, because I was not strong enough, people under my command died needlessly Eldest Mother." T'Pol anguish vibrated in her tone and shone out of her eyes. "The captain had been captured and the ship was under attack, and I could not think. My control was shattered and I could not function." To her horror tears began to leak out of her eyes, right in front of the Eldest Mother herself. Could her humiliation be any more profound?

{"Was he not there with thee child?"} T'Para tried to soothe her. {"Did he not also endure these things? He knows the burdens that thou bore. Together thee and thy adun have survived much. He will forgive thee."}

"He was with me, and he saw me. He saw what I became." T'Pol choked and stopped pacing. She stood and gripped her hands tightly together, trying not to break down completely. "When I fled into hiding, Trip came to find me and remind me of my duty. When I tried to flee the ship, to escape from the crushing weight of the responsibility I could no longer carry, it was Trip who stopped me."

Her voice cracked. "He asked me, Eldest Mother," her voice trailed away until it was almost inaudible, "he asked me what was wrong with me. I looked at him and I wanted to tell him, so that he would kill me for breaking faith with all of them." Her tears began to trickle in steady streams. "But I could not."

T'Para closed her eyes and turned her head. When T'Pol's breathing finally steadied she looked back. The younger woman's eyes were green and her cheeks were irritated from rubbing.

T'Para reverted to modern speech. "Do you have so little respect for him? Do you believe him to be stupid?"

"Of course he is not stupid," T'Pol sniffled. "He is as intelligent as any man I have ever known."

"Then how can you think that he does not already know you are hiding something from him?" T'Para shook her head. "It is your fear that has caused you to be the one who is acting stupidly child. You expect to drive him away with the truth? Yet you are withholding the truth, and where is he now? I do not see him here. Has not your deception already driven him away?"

T'Pol's shoulders sagged. "I cannot face him. I cannot endure the look in his eyes when he learns what I did," she whispered miserably.

"There is no escaping this T'Pol," T'Para sternly lectured her, "Trip must know this for his own safety. How can he judge his own behavior until he learns to determine how much of what he feels is coming from within himself, and how much is coming from you? Will you continue to hide this from him until one day his control snaps completely and he kills someone? What will you tell him then, as he awaits execution?"

T'Pol stood like a statue carved from pale jade. "Will you permit T'Lissa to remain here while I seek my adun?"

"Certainly daughter," T'Para said matter-of-factly. "I am ancient, not deceased. Caring for an infant is not yet beyond my ability. Bring Trip back here so that the three of you can stay for a time. I will train your husband in reaching the more advanced levels of meditation. It should assist him."

"That will be helpful," T'Pol told her gratefully. "I do not anticipate that Trip will permit me to offer further assistance once I have told him. It will be most agreeable to know that he has access to a skilled teacher who can help him."

"Do not anticipate difficulties that have not yet arisen, T'Pol," T'Para chided her. "I suspect that your prediction is based almost entirely on your own fear, rather than a logical extrapolation of your adun's character. Cast out fear, daughter. Nothing can be done until you first cast out fear."

"I shall attempt to do so, Eldest Mother," T'Pol inclined her head, hollow-eyed. "But the effort is proving quite challenging." She turned and headed for the door.

"Do not attempt to tell him until you have returned together T'Pol," T'Para advised. "It will be best to deal with this in the privacy of family."

"Yes, Eldest Mother," T'Pol said dully. Her eyes were far away. She opened the door and walked through, leaving the Eldest Mother looking down at the half asleep baby.

"It is so simple for you, is it not?" she mused. "You love them, and you accept them as they are. If only your elders could remember the wisdom they held when they were your age."

-&-

Captain Archer pressed the comm button. "Yes, Hoshi?"

"_Incoming secured transmission from Admiral Gardner, Sir."_

"Thanks, I'll take it in here." He switched on the monitor and watched Gardner's face coalesce. "Admiral, what can I do for you, Sir?"

"Hello, Jon. Got a couple of jobs for you. I hope you are in the mood for another visit to Vulcan," Gardner said.

"Certainly, Sir," Archer responded. "I hope it means we will have a chance to visit Trip and T'Pol while we are there. I am eager to get a peek at how they are coming on those warp six plans."

"You and me both, Captain," Gardner told him. "And you most definitely will be seeing them. That is the primary reason for the visit. It seems that for some reason they want Doctor Phlox to take over as personal physician again for the Tucker child, at least temporarily."

"Is something wrong?" Archer leaned forward, suddenly worried. Gardner shook his head and held up a hand.

"That was the first thing I asked, too. Apparently not. For some reason Commander Tucker and Lady T'Pol made this a personal request, but it wasn't based on medical reasons. Naturally we expect you to find out why when you get there. Actually the official request came from Chief Minister T'Pau, but she made it plain that she was speaking on their behalf. Not that we have any objections to helping out, especially in a case like this. But I'm sure they wouldn't have requested detouring a starship without a good reason."

"I will certainly get with Trip as soon as we arrive, Admiral," Archer promised.

"Good enough," Gardner told him. "The second matter is not as pleasant. Since you are going to Vulcan anyway, we want you to run back this way first to pick up a body for delivery to next of kin in the Vulcan city of Ka'Dahr. One of Ambassador Soval's staff was unfortunate enough..." Gardner stopped and looked queasy.

"Admiral?" Archer said after a minute.

"He ran into a hornet's nest and was stung to death," Gardner said bluntly. Archer flinched and looked away. "About as horrible a way to die as I can imagine. Apparently Vulcans are especially susceptible to hornet venom, which I never knew before. His widow and their priest are accompanying the casket back to Vulcan. They will need strict isolation during the trip Jon. Quarters as close as possible to the place where the body will be stored, since as I understand it they will spend most of their waking hours sitting watch and meditating."

"Understood, Sir," Archer told him sadly. "I believe we can provide the appropriate environment."

"Good," Gardner sighed. "They specifically requested you, Jon, if you were available. It seemed to comfort the lady a little. I guess because of what happened on Vulcan when you helped find that copy of Surak's original writings."

Captain Archer exhaled slowly. It was probably never going to go away completely. He had carried the katra of Surak, and that was that. Sometimes even now he could feel faint tugs and tingles, especially when he was at the point just between waking and sleeping. And his dreams had never been the same since he left Vulcan. Lingering memories would pop into his head at the oddest times. Like just now. When Gardner mentioned sitting watch with the body, he had a flash vision of the proper arrangement for the candles and incense.

"You are most likely right, Admiral," Archer admitted. "I will try to help any way I can. We will set course for Earth immediately. From our current position," he craned his neck to double check the last log notation, "our ETA is approximately two days."

"Good enough, Jon. We will see you then. Gardner out." The screen went black.

Archer sat back and started rubbing his chin. He considered several options. Then he keyed the comm button again. "Archer to Lieutenant Commander Reed. Report to my ready room."

-&-

Trip pulled himself out of the water and sat on the edge of the pool, winded. It felt good. Ten laps of the Olympic sized pool as fast as he could chop through the water had done wonders for his mood. His arms and legs were totally numb and he could barely breathe now, but he felt better. The endorphins from violent exercise were better than most booze when it came to calming a man down, and not nearly as hard on the liver.

After panting like a dog for a few minutes he staggered to his feet and went into the locker room in search of a towel. Trip wiped his face off, stripped and threw his trunks and towel into the recycle hamper on his way to the showers. A long, hot shower soothed even more of the aches away and he came out almost floating with weariness. His sand suit was finished with its cleaning cycle by the time he got himself air dried. Trip ordered a new set of disposable socks and underwear from the dispenser, slid into the suit, and yanked on his ankle high boots.

Now what? He sat on the locker room bench and pondered the matter. T'Pol had stopped sending him calls to return shortly after he arrived at the compound. From then on, only intermittent flickers told him she was still keeping track of him. Feeling a touch guilty, Trip decided to call T'Para's home and let his wife know where he was and that he was feeling better.

"_Straighten up and act like a grown man, Charles Tucker," _he mocked himself. "_It isn't like you have never been with other women before. She was married to the S.O.B. They had a right to be together, like it or not. It was none of your business then, and it is none of your business now. So get over it. They divorced, she is married to you now, and that is what counts."_ He shook himself and straightened his shoulders. The public comm unit was just over there.

The privacy booth was made from sound deadening transparent aluminum, just like the ports on Enterprise. He sat down in front of the unit. Then he slapped his forehead briskly. He had never bothered to memorize T'Para's code. No problem, that was what directories were for. He called up the listings and requested an English translation. The system spat and grumbled and finally popped up a grid map of the city, with house listings cross referenced to location.

Okey dokey. Now where was her house located? Trip had no idea. This was starting to get embarrassing. He could always call the Starfleet liaison office and have them look it up and connect it, but he would feel like a fool. No, he would run a search by her name instead.

There were a total of 2,457 T'Para's in the directory. Great. "_Eeeny Meeeny Miney Moe. Which old granny do I know?"_ Aside from location, the names were also cross-listed by spouse and clan affiliation. Aha! He knew T'Pol's clan name, she had told it to him the morning of the gathering. It was... Sh'...something. Trip scratched his head.

He set his chin stubbornly. There was more than one way to skin a gerbil. Trip input a search request for 'Tucker, Charles' and immediately got his own listing. Then he did a reverse lookup for his code and got both his and T'Pol's I.D.'s. There it was. Her clan name was actually Sh'hiran'lin'iijyliunh'rei'iy'iukn'hy'wen'lhia'ehrm'n.

He sat and looked at it for a few seconds, shaking his head in disbelief. Hearing it was intimidating enough. But seeing it like that in black and white was almost staggering. "Oh well", he shrugged. He keyed in a request for T'Para, Eldest Mother of clan You-can't-be-serious. In seconds the comm signal was going through.

"_T'Para here."_

"Eldest Mother?" Trip cleared his throat. "This is Trip. Is T'Pol there?"

"_Trip. I am surprised to find you employing such a mundane option for communication. I have been keeping watch on the windows, roof, and drainage pipes ever since you left, expecting that you might appear at any moment."_

Trip felt his face turning crimson. "I... uh... I hope I... mean I... is T'Pol there?" he asked desperately.

"_Not yet."_

Trip was puzzled. "Not yet? You mean she left?"

"_Trip, how much less ambiguous could my answer have been? I said, not yet. Therefore the only logical conclusion that you could have reached would be that she has left and not yet returned."_

Trip pinched the bridge of his nose. "When I said that, I was really asking where she went, T'Para."

Silence on the line for a moment. Then, "_That may well be the most remarkably illogical way of asking that question that I have ever heard in my long life. To answer it, she has gone seeking you."_

Trip hung his head. "Figures. Is T'Lissa still there?"

"_Affirmative."_

"Thank you for watching her. I apologize again. In fact, I should just print up a sheaf of standard apologies and keep them with me at all times. That way whenever I see you I can just pass out the appropriate number for whatever I may have done since the last time we saw each other. It will make life simpler."

"_A logical and efficient suggestion. But it would deprive me of the satisfaction of hearing your voice quaver. I suggest that you go meet your wife. Then bring her back here. She has something to tell you. The three of you will be spending the next several nights here."_

"We will? Why?" Trip asked uneasily.

"_Because I said you will young man. I have already had a difficult day because of you two, don't even consider making it any more so. Talk to T'Pol and get her calmed down. Then come back here to eat something and begin your training. And don't give me any argument. T'Para out."_

A click sounded, and the connection went dead. Trip pursed his lips and nodded. He remembered his father's sage advice from years gone by, after returning from a family reunion. "_Mother-in-laws are tough enough. Don't even think about arguing with a granny-in-law."_ Trip raised himself tiredly and walked over to the ever popular coffee shop to wait for T'Pol.

-&-

He was propped in a corner at a table somewhere. The impression faded, but T'Pol managed to detect the bitter taste of coffee. She knew where to find him. She also knew he was expecting her, that much had come through the connection. He was waiting. His emotions were sealed from her. She concentrated on her breathing exercises.

The embassy guard met her and politely requested identification. She complied, providing her documentation and submitting to scans without comment. "Welcome, Ma'am," the young man said respectfully. "Please come in." T'Pol passed into the interior of the Human compound's enclosed mall, automatically adjusting her metabolic rate to compensate for the temperature drop.

Humans and Vulcans passed in both directions, some walking briskly, some dawdling. The coffee shop was 500 meters ahead. She could see Trip sitting at a corner table, watching through the wide doorway as she approached.

Each step was harder to take than the last. It did not matter what the Eldest Mother said, T'Pol was convinced in her own mind that this conversation would destroy her adun's love for her. Even if he chose to remain with them for T'Lissa's sake, nothing would ever be the same again. Terror more pure than anything she had ever known filled her veins with ice, settled into her bones, coated her skin like slime.

It took her fifteen minutes to walk the 500 meters. When she got to the coffee shop doorway Trip stood up and offered a smile. "I got you some tea, hun." He waved at the table. T'Pol sat down solemnly, as stiff as a machine. Trip looked wary and resumed his chair. "I'm sorry about the way I reacted. I really am. There is no excuse for it, I know that. I am going to try to put more effort into the meditation you taught me-"

"Trip. Stop." She was trembling. "Don't."

He shut up and looked down at the table, nodding. "I understand. You are too mad at me right now."

T'Pol wanted to die. She literally wished to end her life then and there.

"It was my fault," she rasped out. "I am the cause." The steel mug bent between her fingers. Trip sighed and put a hand on hers. The touch of her adun's skin energized the bond tenfold. Trip's emotional blockade shredded and T'Pol could feel his sorrow and tired sympathy.

"I think we both overreacted a little maybe. But I had no business bolting out of there the way I did. That was childish and stupid. I am so sorry honey. I never wanted to hurt T'Lissa," he stopped and swallowed hard. "Is she ok now?"

T'Pol nodded quickly. "She is fine. She was almost asleep when I left." Buying time, she lifted the mug to take a sip. Hot tea caressed her throat, but did not thaw the icy fear in her katra. "Trip, I must confess something to you."

"Can I go first? Please?" Trip interrupted with quiet urgency. "I need to say this before I lose my nerve." T'Pol stopped, at a loss for how to respond. Taking her silence for assent, he continued. "I have been acting like a stupid teenager about Koss. I realize that. I can't undo what happened at the gathering, I wish I could. Looking back I can't believe I really pulled a knife on the sonuvabitch. I haven't been that hot headed since I was fifteen." He flushed and looked away for a second. Then he turned his eyes back to hers again.

"And today was absolutely inexcusable. I had no right to get upset, T'Pol. You were lawfully married. What you did together with your husband was none of my business. What matters is here and now. And that's all that matters to me. You, me, and T'Lissa. Please don't give up on me. I am trying my best to adjust to things here, and I will keep on trying to learn how to do it better." Trip stopped and waited hopefully.

T'Pol felt his sincerity through the bond. He truly believed that he was at fault for everything that had happened, and feared that she would judge him harshly. The bitter irony of it would have made her laugh and cry at the same time, if only she dared.

She stared at him weakly and managed, "You were reacting to my emotions Trip."

"I know," he told her, "but you wouldn't have been so upset if I hadn't reacted like a jealous adolescent." Her steel tea mug crumpled in her hand like styrofoam.

_"Will you listen?_ she whispered shrilly. Trip drew back in surprise and nodded. T'Pol swallowed several times and wet her lips. "Trip, I am damaged." She took half a dozen fast breaths. "I told you about the Panar, and that T'Pau used things she had learned from the ancient teachings to cure me."

"Yeah, I remember," he replied, carefully watching her.

"But I did not tell you," she stopped and fought back a whimper, "I did not tell you that," she looked down at the table, "that I am still damaged from the trellium exposure in the Expanse. And I always will be. Phlox says that the neural degradation is permanent." She waited, still looking down at the table. Suddenly she felt his hands pressing against her cheeks, and he lifted her face to look at him.

Trip's eyes were brimming with pain and grieving love. "Why didn't you tell me honey? Why? You have been dealing with this alone for all this time? This hurts that you didn't tell me this. No wonder you have been shaky. Let me help you, that's what I am here for. Don't you trust me?"

T'Pol closed her eyes and fled into the refuge of the deepest kohlinar disciplines she could reach without prior meditation. Trip watched her breathing patterns change and waited while she steadied herself, knowing that she needed a few minutes before she could answer him. A lot was coming clear to him now. Her mood swings, her flashes of uncharacteristic anger, her brooding silences. Many things started making sense all of a sudden.

Then it hit him, what she had been trying to tell him. Her emotions were leaking across the bond and firing him up. That was why he got so riled up at Koss. He wanted to scalp the goat humping son of a coyote anyway. With T'Pol's Vulcan emotions running amok, his Human adrenaline had activated the fight or flight mode and he almost went for blood right then and there. Uh-oh. This was maybe not looking real good. T'Para said something about training? Trip hoped she meant that she could help them out with this.

T'Pol pulled herself back out of the darkness. Trip was still holding her face in his hands, ignoring the looks they were getting. Humans customers glancing across the room looked curious, Vulcans were scandalized. She ignored them both. It would probably be the last time he willingly touched her and she desperately wanted to prolong the moment. T'Pol put her hands over her husband's, holding his contact against her face for just a few seconds longer. It was time. Her anguish crept across the bond and caused him to lean forward, looking worried.

"Trip, I did not tell you because I was ashamed. I did it to myself." There. It was done. She waited for him to shove her away. Instead he looked mightily puzzled, as if she had just declared her intention to plant dandelions in her boots.

"Say what?" Trip blurted. "You did what to yourself? The trellium? How?"

T'Pol had to push out each individual word by sheer force of will. "After the Seleya, when Phlox released me from sickbay, for a few days there was a residual effect. It took almost three days for the last of the trellium to flush itself out of my system."

Trip blinked. "OK. But you didn't do that to yourself. I still don't follow." T'Pol wanted to scream in frustration.

"Just listen, Trip. Please. I can only say this once. It is too hard for me. I have wanted to tell you this for a year, and I will never have the courage to say it again. Please, just listen?" He nodded.

"For those days I noticed a strange difference in the way my mind operated. My emotions were still unstable. But as the trellium subsided I gradually began to gain control over them. After a time, just before the last of the trellium left my system, I found that I was able to experience the full range of emotions. But they did not cause me to lose control." She looked helplessly at him. "Do you understand what I am saying, Trip? I could feel them, but I could still think. I could still control myself. The trellium let me operate the way you do, the way Humans do. I could feel my emotions and still retain control of myself."

Trip started to understand. She could feel understanding begin to seep into the bond, and feel it start to darken his eyes. She could feel his anger kindle. Just as she had known it would.

"Weeks later, when you tried to experiment with methods for coating one of the shuttle pods with trellium, do you remember how I was accidentally exposed at one point?" T'Pol saw him run through his memory of that time period.

"Yeah," he finally said. "We were coming out of the shuttle bay and heading for decon, and for some reason you had been down to engineering talking to Hess. We didn't know you were down there, and nobody had warned you that we were working with the stuff. Everybody was so punch drunk from pulling triple shifts that it just got overlooked I guess." He pulled his hands back and T'Pol felt her heart wrench, although she offered no objection. Trip rubbed his forehead and finished recalling, "We walked around a corner and ran right into you. The dust on our uniforms flew up in a cloud and you started coughing. Scared the shit out of all of us."

"Doctor Phlox put me through decontamination procedures in sickbay in time to avoid serious exposure," T'Pol told him. "But there was some slight residue that entered my lungs and eyes. Only microscopic traces, but it was enough to replicate the sensations I had experienced previously. Once again, I could experience emotions without losing control."

"And you liked it so well that you decided it was worth frying your brain to get that way again," he said between tightly clenched teeth.

"Yes." They sat and looked at each other.

"How long did you keep it up?" He finally asked her.

"Until Azati Prime," she confessed.

"You stopped after that?"

"Not by choice." T'Pol wrung her hands and looked down. "When the ship was attacked, the cargo bay where the trellium was kept became damaged. I could not reach it and went into withdrawal. I ordered-" She stopped talking when Trip's fist hit the table like a sledgehammer. T'Pol looked up in panic to see his face almost purple with blood and pulsing with anger. Her worst fears had come true.

"So that's why you were acting crazy," he growled. "The ship was falling apart around our ears, the Xindi were howling up our asses, half the crew was bleeding to death, the captain was captured and being tortured, and you were shaking yourself to pieces because you needed your fix." Trip's voice gradually rose and coarsened as he leaned forward over the table into T'Pol's face. She shuddered but didn't run.

"Is there some problem?" The two Vulcan men stood politely, but implacably, beside the table. From their clothing they were probably some type of government bureaucrats. Ordinarily not the type to barge in on a private conversation under any circumstances. But protecting a Vulcan woman from an obviously out of control Human took priority over custom any day.

Unfortunately for them, out of all the days they could have chosen to be knights in shining armor, this was the worst one they could possibly have picked. Trip was in the mood to break something, and those two looked just about perfect.

T'Pol didn't even have time to shout a warning. Trip exploded out of his chair and landed a powerful right cross directly into the pit of the shorter Vulcan's belly. Three months of daily weight training under Vulcan gravity had put steel into Trip's already solid muscles, and the blow sent the astonished civil servant reeling backward into an adjacent table.

The second man stepped forward quickly and reached for Trip's shoulder to apply a nerve pinch. Trip blocked his arm and squatted, sweeping his leg around behind his opponent's knee and depositing him neatly on the floor. Then he bellowed like a bull and leaped. The Vulcan rolled frantically, barely managing to dodge in time. Trip's boots slammed hard on the floor, directly on the spot where the Vulcan's ribcage had been two seconds ago. T'Pol sprang like a cat and landed on her husband's back. She grabbed his temples and poured everything she had into the bond, urgently trying to compel Trip to stop.

Instead, he twisted and flung her off with one arm and sent her flying through the air, knocking over their table and slamming into the wall hard enough to leave her breathless. His mind was dark, and hot, and completely beyond her reach. Her news had pushed him into fury, and the onset of battle had driven him past fury, into berserker madness.

"Halt!" The security guard at the entrance to the shop held a phase pistol steady on Trip. "Commander. Stop it right now. Don't make me stun you." Trip looked up at this new enemy and skinned his teeth. Then he charged. The guard pressed the stud and a beam stabbed Trip in the center of the torso, sending him staggering to his knees. For a moment more he tried to crawl forward, then finally collapsed onto his face into unconsciousness.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Father to the Man**

by Blackn'blue (aka Bluenblack)

**Warning:** Violence, Adult Language, Adult Situations, Rampant Sexism, Politically Incorrect Social Commentary, Uncouth Fashion Sense, Scary Old Ladies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Description: **This is the third story in my series that began with For Want of A Nail and continued with In the Cold of the Night. I suggest reading those before tackling this one. Otherwise many of the references won't make any sense. This story was originally posted to the HoT website in eight parts on November 2006, December 2006 and February 2007. As I explained in my first posting, the whole series started as a simple stand-alone story that got completely out of hand.

**Note:** Vulcan words used in this story were either stolen wholesale from the Vulcan Language Dictionary at /vld/, the online Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

* * *

Chapter 5

Phlox went over the data once more. Remarkable. Kerlek had done a fine job of quantifying the percentage of drift. This would put the point at somewhere between 50-70,000 years. Phlox scratched his brow in puzzlement. That made no sense at all. None whatsoever. Unless... No. That was most unlikely. Wasn't it?

He hummed to himself. This was turning out to be a remarkably engrossing bit of serendipity. This sort of thing happened occasionally during cross-species research, but the probability was statistically almost negligible. The 'what' started to become obvious once baby Elizabeth's genome map was completely documented. The supplemental samples that Kerlek had taken from T'Pol and Trip confirmed it beyond any reasonable doubt. However, the 'who', 'when', 'how' and 'why' remained a dark mystery and would likely remain so. The only evidence was no doubt long gone into the dust of millennia.

"_Bridge to Doctor Phlox. Please report to docking bay three."_

"Ah," he muttered to himself, "time to greet our passengers." Phlox got up and ambled through the sickbay doors, still musing about the comparative genetic analysis. When they published this, it was going to send shock waves from Andoria to Kronos. How incredibly ironic that it was Terra Prime's own actions that brought about the discovery.

The good doctor found Captain Archer waiting at the docking port, with Lieutenant Commander Reed and a formal honor guard in dress uniforms. At the captain's nod, Reed pushed the airlock button. The two Vulcan's on the other side wore the deep, concealing robes of mourning. Archer stepped into the gap between the double line of guards and offered the ta'al greeting, accompanied by the proper words in flawless Vulcan.

"Welcome aboard Enterprise," Archer told them, "we grieve with you. I am Jonathan Archer. This is my second in command, Malcolm Reed, and my medical officer, Doctor Phlox."

The taller figure pulled his hood back to reveal an aged Vulcan male with thinning silver hair and a deeply lined face. He returned Archer's salute. "Live long and prosper, Captain Archer. I am Keval, son of Genner. My companion is Lady Selera, daughter of T'Prun."

"We have prepared quarters for both of you," Archer told them. "Cargo bay two has been made ready to receive the body of Lady Selera's bond mate. Candles and incense have been provided, along with basins for the ceremonial cleansing. If anything else is required, someone will be available at all times. Simply make your needs known and it will be provided." In compliance with tradition, Archer avoided speaking the name of the deceased in the presence of his wife when it could be avoided.

"You and your crew honor us, Captain," Keval bowed slightly. He turned and gestured. Two Vulcan crewmen pushed a coffin through the opening, gliding smoothly on a platform floating above the floor. As the platform came through the opening and entered Enterprise's artificial gravity field the neutralizers, set for Vulcan normal gravity, caused the sarcophagus to tip upward slightly. The first two members of the honor guard caught the hand grips smoothly and guided it reverently along, passing it gently to the next pair of MACOs, who in turn handed off to the third pair. Finally the intricately carved box leveled off in the corridor, flanked on each side by three MACOs standing at attention.

Reed pressed the button to close the airlock, then did a sharp about face and snapped an order. The group started marching with slow steps, followed by Archer and Phlox escorting the two Vulcans.

-&-

Trip came drifting out of the fog slowly. A voice from a vast distance faintly said, "He will be fully conscious soon." Trip wondered who they were talking about.

A second voice, obviously male, asked gruffly, "Will he be coherent?"

"Certainly," the first replied, now identifiable as a young woman. "The only lingering effect from the stun should be a headache. I will go inform his wife that he is regaining consciousness."

"I will need to speak with him alone first," the man ordered. Trip frowned.

"I'm sorry sir, but regulations are clear. Next of kin are to be notified immediately when the patient is awakened. Now if you will excuse me." There was a distant tapping that dissipated into the grayness of Trip's mind and silence for a while. Slowly the world started to brighten in front of his eyes, then took on shades of pastel color. Finally shadowy shapes started to form.

Trip closed his eyes tightly and then blinked rapidly several times. The world cleared and showed him Vice-Admiral Constantine Jendaro standing at the foot of the bed. Trip groaned quietly to himself. It all came back to him at once. Goodbye commission. Hello stockade. Assault and battery on Vulcan civilians. Conduct unbecoming an officer. Etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseum. The list of crimes he was charged with was probably as long as Malcolm's litany of complaints about the targeting sensors.

The icing on the cake was having Jendaro himself show up to put the noose around his neck. The Vice-Admiral had never made a secret of his resentment at having Admiral Gardner usurp his authority, as he saw it, by putting Trip on detached assignment on Vulcan but leaving him under direct command of Starfleet HQ on Earth. Trip was certain that he detected a gleam of unholy joy in the old fart's eye as he stood there, while giving an otherwise flawless imitation of bitter disappointment.

"I see that you have chosen to rejoin us, Commander Tucker," Jendaro said flatly. "I trust that you had a restful sleep? Nothing like a good nap after some vigorous exercise to make a man feel energized, is there, Commander?"

Trip slid up in bed to a sitting position. "Hello, Admiral. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Trip glibly faked a nonchalant air of innocent curiosity. His attempt at levity fell flat with a dull and sodden thud.

"I have come to inform you of your pending court martial, Commander," Jendaro told him with relish. "I wanted you to be the first to know. Ambassador Trask himself insisted that the disgraceful attack you made on Administrator V'nal and his assistant be punished swiftly and decisively. Don't think your political cronies are going to pull your chestnuts out of the fire this time, Commander. I don't care how much pull Captain Archer has. It doesn't even matter what Admiral Gardner might want. This is coming directly from the Ambassador himself."

"I see," Trip sighed. "Well, it could have been worse." He finished the thought, "_At least I didn't kill anyone."_

Jendaro looked at him as if he had just grown brow ridges. "Could have been worse? You just destroyed your career, Tucker. You have disgraced yourself, your family, your name. You have caused an interspecies incident that may result in serious repercussions between Earth and Vulcan, and you say it could have been worse? How could it have been worse?"

"You are exaggerating, Vice-Admiral," a new voice broke in. Both men turned to see T'Pau and T'Pol entering the embassy clinic, flanked by the Chief Minister's ubiquitous and huge bodyguards. T'Pau continued, "There will be no repercussions because there will be no interspecies incident. I have already spoken with Ambassador Trask. At my request, he has agreed to drop all charges against Commander Tucker. You should be receiving a message from him to that effect at any moment."

Jendaro swelled up and seemed about to burst from indignation. "You can't do that, Chief Minister. I don't understand why you would want to do that in the first place. But in any event, you can't. You don't have the right to interfere with an internal Starfleet disciplinary matter. Plus, Commander Tucker does not work for the diplomatic corps, he works for Starfleet. Ambassador Trask does not have authority to drop the charges."

"That is why he will be contacting you," T'Pau pointed out. "So that you can take care of the formalities."

Jendaro clenched his teeth. "I cannot do that, madam. I am sorry, but my duty is clear. Commander Tucker has broken our laws and he must be punished.

T'Pol walked over to Trip's bedside with extreme trepidation. He sat there and looked up at his wife, wondering what he could possibly say to her. "_I threw her into a wall. First I scared T'Lissa. Then I went completely crazy and I threw T'Pol into a wall. I need to get away from both of them, to keep them safe. I can't be trusted anymore. Jendaro is right. At least in a stockade I won't be a danger to my own family."_

T'Pol felt his guilt and impulsively reached for him. Trip flinched when she touched his hand, but didn't pull away. "I'm sorry, T'Pol," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Hush," she told him. "Be still, Ashayam. All will be well."

T'Pau was regarding Vice-Admiral Jendaro with a calculating look. "You may attempt to hold your court martial if you wish. But you will be wasting your time. You will not convict Commander Tucker of any crime."

"I beg to differ, Chief Minister," Jendaro said smugly. "We have multiple eye witnesses. Two of your own people were his victims.

T'Pau raised a sardonic eyebrow. "If I may paraphrase your own words, Administrator V'nal and Assistant Administrator Straan do not work for Starfleet, they work for me. They will not be pressing charges. They will not testify at any court martial you may choose to convene. No Vulcan who was present during the events in question will testify."

Jendaro started to steam. "I see. Well then Chief Minister, we still have multiple Human eye witnesses to Commander Tucker's reprehensible behavior."

"Indeed," T'Pau responded blandly. "And if they were on the planet their testimony might prove damaging to Commander Tucker. However any Human who agrees to testify against Commander Tucker will be summarily deported from Vulcan without notice by unanimous emergency order of the High Council."

Jendaro's face slowly slackened and he fell backward a step. "You wouldn't?" He stared in disbelief.

"Most assuredly we would. And we will." T'Pau told him. "I submit that your most logical course of action would be to comply with the request of your own ambassador and drop the charges."

Jendaro stood and glared at her. "If necessary, I will arrange for Commander Tucker to be transported back to Earth for trial. Tucker is a citizen of Earth and a Starfleet officer, and he is required to comply with the standards inherent to those positions. This embassy is under the jurisdiction of Earth law. Would you allow one of your own people to break your laws with impunity?"

"He's right T'Pau," Trip broke in abruptly. Five heads turned to stare at him. "I did the crime, I should do the time. I was really out of control. It is nothing but sheer luck that I didn't kill anyone. I need to be put somewhere safe, so I don't hurt anyone else."

Jendaro was staggered for a second, but he recovered quickly. "I must say, Commander, that you have just redeemed a significant amount of respect in my eyes. That is the kind of statement that I would have expected from one of the heroes of the Xindi conflict. Since you are willing to confess we can dispense with the distasteful exposure of a public trial. I see no reason to put you through that type of humiliation now."

"You were not responsible for what happened, Trip," T'Pol said urgently. "I told you what was happening. I explained it to you. Don't you remember?"

"I remember throwing you into a wall," Trip said bitterly, looking away. "I remember turning into a wild animal."

"It wasn't your fault!" T'Pol reached over and grabbed both of his hands tightly. "I did it to you. I was so upset that I lost control. When the two men came over and interrupted us, I became enraged that they would dare to intrude on our privacy. My rage fed on the anger you were already feeling and ignited it. It wasn't your fault," she pleaded with him to understand.

"I don't understand," Jendaro said. "Are you saying that you instigated the attack Lady T'Pol?"

"I am," T'Pol told him. "My husband was not responsible for his actions. He was incapable of controlling himself."

"Why not?" Jendaro demanded. "Was he drugged?"

The two women looked at each other. Trip broke in, "She is just trying to make excuses for me Admiral. Pay no attention. I am a big boy, and I can take responsibility for my own actions. Go ahead and bring me the paperwork. I will plead guilty and we can get this over with."

"No." T'Pol said sharply. "Admiral, you are aware of Vulcan telepathic abilities?"

"Of course," Jendaro said warily.

"You may not be aware that married Vulcan couples share a telepathic connection that we call a mating bond." Jendaro's eyes widened. "Since my husband is Human, our mating bond is somewhat atypical. He is currently suffering from unanticipated side effects caused by the bond. One such side effect caused him to lose control in the coffee shop. It was entirely due to my influence, and completely beyond Trip's ability to resist."

Jendaro rubbed his chin. "I am afraid I can't simply take your word for something like this, Lady T'Pol. Unless you can offer proof, I don't believe that it will make any difference in this case."

"Really?" T'Pau looked bemused. "In that case," she stepped forward, "we must provide proof." Her hand flashed forward and landed on Jendaro's temple, fingertips spread across to the proper contact points while her eyes locked onto his. Jendaro's face became rigid, and he stared into T'Pau's eyes as her mind bored into his without remorse.

"What are you doing?" Trip shouted. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and started to get up, ignoring the fact that he was in his underwear. T'Pol grabbed his shoulders and held him back.

"Providing Admiral Jendaro with the proof he requires," T'Pau muttered in a distracted voice. She did not look away or move a muscle. After a moment Jendaro's right hand twitched. Slowly it raised to shoulder height and flattened. Then his fingers spread out into the Vulcan salute and held steady. His lips writhed across his clenched teeth while his breath came hard and fast. Then he vented a strangled sob. Suddenly he whimpered, "Sochya Eh Dif" with his teeth bared in a snarl.

T'Pau snatched her hand away and took a quick step backward. Her bodyguards took an equally quick step forward to stand at her shoulders, leaving Jendaro with no recourse but to take it and glare. "You see, Admiral?" T'Pau said with perfect aplomb, "An untrained Human mind is incapable of resisting the influence of telepathic manipulation. You made a powerful effort, and I am sure that with time and training you could learn to defend yourself. But without that time and training you were no more able to control your actions than Commander Tucker was."

Jendaro's eyes darted back and forth. "This is what she did to Tucker?" he demanded of T'Pau. "The same thing you just did to me?"

"No," T'Pau said with more than a trace of smugness. "The mating bond is inherently deeper and more intimate than the brief connection I made with your mind. The influence that she had over him was many times more powerful."

Jendaro stared at her, then he turned to look at T'Pol with horror. He shifted his gaze toward Trip and shook his head. A shadow of something like pity came into his eyes. "I see. In that case, I will comply with Ambassador Trask's request. The charges will be dropped." He took a hesitant step toward the bed. "Commander, I... if you need... assistance. Do not hesitate to ask. We take care of our own. You know that."

Four sets of Vulcan eyebrows levitated as Trip looked taken aback. "Uh... thanks. I will keep that in mind, Admiral." Jendaro nodded and turned to leave, not looking too steady.

Trip looked dazed. "I can't believe you did that." He stared at T'Pau. "I can NOT believe you did that!"

"It was the only logical course of action, Trip," T'Pau said with a poker face. "Bringing you to trial would have discredited our ongoing investigation into V'Rald's corruption. In addition it would have potentially caused lasting harm to both T'Pol and T'Lissa as well. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one."

"No," he shook his head. "The logical course of action would be to have me incarcerated somewhere secure before I kill someone. That's the logical thing to do."

"You are not going to kill anyone, Trip," T'Pol said, clutching both his hands tightly. "T'Para is going to train you in the advanced meditation disciplines, so that you can learn to block my destabilizing emotions. She is going to work with both of us to learn how to handle this."

"And what is T'Para going to do if I blow up while I am there?" Trip demanded. "What happens if I lose it sometime when I am alone with the old lady? She wouldn't have a chance. Shit, T'Pol!" His voice rose in volume and pitch, "I almost killed you! I threw you into a WALL!"

"You did not throw me into a wall, Trip Tucker," T'Pol chided him in exasperation. "I jumped on your back, and you twisted to fling me off. In the first place you had no way of knowing who had jumped on your back. All you knew was that suddenly, someone had jumped on you from behind. In the second place, you just wanted me to get off, you were not trying to hurt me. In the third place you did not harm me at all, I was completely uninjured."

"But you could have been," Trip insisted. "It's not safe for me to be around you and the baby, T'Pol. It's not safe for me to be around anyone who can't defend themselves."

"I am certainly capable of defending myself," T'Pol huffed.

"Then why didn't you?" Trip retorted. "Why didn't you rabbit punch me, or nerve pinch me, or hit me upside the head with a mug?"

T'Pol opened her mouth but nothing came out. Why hadn't she? The plain fact was, it never occurred to her. The very concept of using violence against her own mate was anathema to any Vulcan. It was literally unthinkable.

"You see?" Trip said defiantly. "I need to be confined somewhere and watched."

"Agreed," T'Pau unexpectedly cut in. T'Pol turned to glare at her, but softened when she went on to say, "I will arrange to have a bodyguard assigned to T'Para's residence at all times. Will that ease your concerns, Trip? He will keep watch. If you exhibit any signs of dangerous behavior, he will not hesitate to stun you immediately."

Trip paused with his mouth open. Then he closed it and nodded. "Maybe that would work," he admitted. "IF he was trained and prepared."

"He will be an experienced operative from the Security Directorate," T'Pau assured him. "Since it is standard practice for T'Lissa to be guarded in any case, I see no reason to change existing policy." Trip flushed and realized he had been scammed. T'Pol felt a wicked impulse to smile.

-&-

Crewman Gonzales was sweating heavily. It wasn't because of Chicago's December wind, that was for sure. He turned yet another corner, ducked into the next alley, and waited with his heart pounding. There was no sign of the guy. Maybe he really was an innocent pedestrian who just happened to be heading in the same direction for a couple of blocks. Maybe.

Louis tried to steady his breathing. This game was starting to get too nerve wracking. It was one thing to play James Bond aboard Enterprise when all he had to do was observe and make semi-regular reports. It was something else entirely now. It had been bad enough when the bosses started making noises about having Matty and him knock off Commander Tucker. Crap, that would have been almost impossible to get away with. But they lucked out of that one.

This one was different. This one most likely was going to get them both killed. What was Moreno thinking? Crewman Louis Gonzales was not a coward by any means, but neither was he a man who took chances for the sheer joy of it. He liked to calculate his risks. He wanted to know in advance what he was going up against, so that he could plan and prepare. He didn't mind risks, but he did mind stupid risks.

Gonzales suspected that Moreno was desperate for something, anything, that would impress people with Terra Prime's importance again. Ever since Cantrell's fortress got hit, and the whole top level of bosses got sliced, Moreno had been scrambling to hang onto his position. There was only one real reason that he was still the titular head of Terra Prime. The other candidates were still too busy killing each other off to bother with him. But the clock was ticking fast and Moreno knew it well.

To stay alive, much less hang onto his position, Moreno needed something to establish himself. He needed something big, and he needed it fast. Gonzales admitted that knocking off the Vulcans on Enterprise, and desecrating the corpse they had with them, would certainly make a splash. A very large, red splash if Gonzales wasn't mistaken, with most of the red coming out of his and Ensign Matilda Wu's veins. Not that Moreno cared of course, Gonzales thought bitterly.

He remember with crystal clarity how he had objected, and Moreno's reply. "_You have two brothers, a sister, a niece, two nephews, a grandfather, an aunt and an uncle. Which one do you want me to kill first?"_

He checked around the corner. Clear for now. Straightening his clothes, Gonzales stepped out into the stream of pedestrians and tried to look nonchalant. He still had to meet Matty and get her up to speed before they both reported back to Enterprise. The ship was due to leave space dock in seven hours.

Knowing that crazy woman, she was probably going to look at this as some kind of adventure. The broad was certifiably nuts, no question about it. But then, she didn't have any family to worry about either. Gonzales cursed under his breath as another blast of icy wind cut right down his collar.

-&-

Healer Kerlek sat down in front of the view screen and pressed the button. The face of Doctor Phlox appeared and the recorded message began.

"_Greetings my esteemed colleague Healer Kerlek. I have reviewed the data that you sent. I must concur with your conclusions. The numbers speak for themselves, don't they? The probability of so many points of similarity occurring by chance in two separate species is so low as to be effectively impossible."_

Kerlek let out the breath that he had not been aware of holding and sat back in his chair. As he was alone and unobserved, he took a moment to rub his eyes and sigh in relief. Even being certain in his own mind of the results, it helped to have independent confirmation of something this controversial.

"_But if your calculations concerning the rate of drift are correct, and the point of intermix was somewhere between 50-70,000 years ago, then we are left with a mystery aren't we? Vulcans didn't have space flight that long ago. And Humans didn't even have cities as far as we know. It seems that we must postulate the intervention of a third party. I have taken the liberty of doing some research into the Human database, and I believe I have found some information that may be of interest to you."_

Kerlek leaned forward again, intrigued.

"_I am attaching a summation of my results for you to review. It turns out that Humans actually did face a population bottleneck approximately 70,000 years ago. Incredibly, it seems that every Human alive today is descended from a base of approximately 10,000 survivors. Given the harsh environmental conditions of the time, this is an astonishingly small number. In any case, a complete copy is on its way along with my own very interested self. I am 'itching' as our Human colleagues would say, to get my hands and eyes on your work directly. I want to see those DNA base pair sequences for myself, curiosity is devouring me alive. Until then I will leave you with my respectful regards. Phlox out._

Kerlek watched the image of Phlox fade, and be replaced by a text file. He began reading it, becoming more fascinated the more he read. It was entirely possible that Phlox might have discovered a logical explanation for the results that he, Kerlek, had obtained. If so, between them they had unearthed a truly epic story. His face alight with the glow of discovery, Kerlek started making notes and cross-referencing.

-&-

T'Para sat holding T'Lissa and watching blank faced as Trip shuffled through the door, closely followed by T'Pol. "Um. Good afternoon, Eldest Mother," Trip ventured.

"Is it?" She raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps. That remains to be determined, children. Do the two of you intend to continue tearing forward without a care, considering nothing, and leaving a trail of destruction in your wake?" Trip winced and T'Pol looked as if she wanted to sink into the floor.

"We hope not, Eldest Mother," Trip offered humbly. "Thank you for keeping T'Lissa for us. How has she been?"

"Lonely and pining for both of you," T'Para said mercilessly. T'Pol stepped forward and took the baby. T'Lissa roused groggily and realized that she was back in her mother's arms. A squeal of happiness punctuated by two wildly waving arms got her hugged up next to T'Pol's neck.

Uh, I'm sorry... again," Trip blushed. T'Para gave him a look that was not amused.

"While you are here you will study, and you will learn, Trip. Is that clear?" Trip nodded nervously.

"Yes, ma'am," he squeaked.

"You will not argue, complain, or cause me any further frustration. Is that clear?" the old woman snapped with fire in her eye.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Satisfactory. Barely. T'Para told him. "Proceed down the hallway to the last doorway. Open it and find yourself in my meditation garden. Place yourself on my meditation bench and enter the first stage of meditation, just as T'Pol has taught you. Remain there until someone comes for you, or until your body's physical needs make it imperative for you to leave, whichever comes first. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Go."

Trip went. T'Para waited until she heard the door snick closed before pointing at the chair opposite her couch. {"Sit, Daughter of my Clan,"} she intoned in High Vulcan. T'Pol's expression showed that she had been waiting for this. She sat and looked at T'Para in resignation.

{"Daughter of my Clan,"} the old woman spoke with her nostrils flared widely, making T'Pol very nervous, {"didst thou hear my abjuration to return here with thine adun before revealing thy condition to him, and the reason for it?"}

{"Yes, Eldest Mother,"} T'Pol bowed her head.

{"Why then, Daughter of my Clan, didst thou choose to wantonly disobey my express command?"} T'Para demanded. T'Pol knew she was in real trouble this time.

{"I cannot answer thee, Eldest Mother,"} T'Pol admitted. {"I did not deliberately choose to disobey thee. When we began talking, the weight of my guilt overcame me and I told Trip what I had done. It was as if the words burst out of me under their own volition."}

T'Para glared at her. {"Burst out of you under their own volition? Were they sentient then? Did they have legs and arms as well, Daughter of my Clan? Did they leap out onto the floor and run about, making First Contact with the other customers, perhaps ordering cups of beverage for themselves?"}

T'Pol looked ill. {"No, Eldest Mother."}

{"Dost thou intend to accept such ill conceived excuses from thine own daughter when she becomes old enough to articulate them?"} T'Para demanded. {"Wilt thou permit her to thus evade responsibility for her choices? By simply disavowing understanding of her own motivations, wilt thou grant her absolution?"}

{"No, Eldest Mother,"} T'Pol shrank into the chair. She had not felt this chastened since she was six years old, and got caught sneaking away from her studies to play with her pet sehlat.

{"Dost thou have a care that thy choice to ignore my words nearly cost thy child her father's touch?"} T'Para continued to hammer her point home. {"Dost thy mind entertain the realization that if things had gone only slightly differently, the Human guard might well have chosen to use lethal force against thy bond mate? It is only by the intercession of Chief Minister T'Pau that thine adun has escaped spending years encaged like a wild beast. And all of it because of thine own childish refusal to face reality and cope with it."}

T'Pol started trembling. T'Lissa whimpered and suddenly her mother came back to awareness. She gently shushed the baby and soothed her, rocking slowly and humming until the little one drifted back to sleep. For a time both women were silent. Then T'Pol said, "Eldest Mother, I don't know what is happening to me. When Doctor Phlox arrives I intend to ask him to examine me. I fear that the neural damage had worsened. My control seems to be even weaker than before."

"There is another explanation, more logical," T'Para said phlegmatically. "You are bonded to a Human, are you not? Did you arrogantly think that the effects of the bond moved strictly in one direction? I can assure you, daughter, they most definitely do not."

"What must I do?" T'Pol sounded very small and lost. T'Para reached over without thinking and patted her hand maternally.

"You will do what Trip is doing. Learn. Both of you will stay here and learn together. It is long past time that the pair of you stopped hiding from each other. You are responsible for a new life now. Neither of you can be permitted to continue as you have up until now." T'Para sat back and regarded her. "You will stop lying to him, T'Pol. You will stop lying to yourself. You will face your fears and cast them out. You will learn to seek out the truth and understand it, embrace it, and come to terms with it."

"I have never lied to him," T'Pol doggedly maintained.

"You are lying now," T'Para said firmly. "Whenever one acts with the ultimate purpose of concealing the truth, one is lying. Whenever one's objective is to distort and present only a partial truth, one is lying. Whenever one's purpose is to present a false concept of reality to another, one is lying. It matters not whether one makes a statement that is directly false. What matters is the intent to deceive." T'Pol did not reply. She held the baby close and leaned her head back against the chair, breathing deeply.

-&-

The Section 31 operative shook his head. Harris was trying to get too cute. Sure, there was nothing wrong with using this as a chance to get some free training for Reed, and even Archer. You use what you've got. But this situation was too convoluted. The more kinks you put into the plumbing, the easier it was to stop up the drain.

He sat down with a sigh, rubbing his knee. Should he get the replacement joint or not? A quick trip back home, a few days to recuperate, then back here. It wasn't like the crew couldn't survive without him for a few days. Was it? Surely they could find someone to cover for him for just a few days. Maybe twenty days maximum. Couldn't they? He frowned.

In twenty days what kind of damage could a stranger do in here? What would he return to find? He looked around. Everything meticulously arranged and organized. The last time he took off for just a couple of days, look what happened. Catastrophe, that's what happened. He growled. No way. He would put up with a stiff knee for a while longer. At his age a few aches and pains were to be expected. He had survived far worse.

So Harris wanted to play Venus Fly Trap did he? Fine. But there was no way that he was going to let Harris have his little farce cause any real problems aboard Enterprise. It was not going to happen. This was his ship, his territory. This domain belonged to him, not Harris.

Having made his decision, the operative stood up and began making preparations for a backup plan. Just in case.

-&-

Trip sat on a stone bench, beneath an arch wreathed with lourfi vines. A few native plants adorned pots against the wall and at each end of the bench. Otherwise the only decoration was the twisted stone fountain in the center of the garden. It was built of native stone, stacked in casual beauty. The fountain offered a tiny trickle of water that flowed from the top of the rocks, playing in tiny streams and waterfalls until it splashed into the small pool at the fountain's base. The sight and sound were mesmerizing.

Trip was trying to clear his mind and failing. Ever since he woke up in the embassy clinic, he had been fighting not to think about what T'Pol had told him. He was losing the fight.

"_Dismissed."_

"_What?"_

"_Get out."_

He remembered standing at the doorway of the captain's ready room, staring in shock. Her hands were shaking, he remembered. T'Pol's hands were trembling. The captain was gone and the ship was under attack. People were dying. But somehow, to see her with trembling hands was the most disturbing thing of all.

"_What the hell's wrong with you!"_

"_Let GO of me!"_

She fought to break free of his grip. She was going to take a shuttle pod out and follow Jon. At the time he thought she was so upset because of the captain. He used to wonder if she had feelings for Jon. He thought that might explain the way she treated him, because maybe she couldn't make up her mind. Hot and cold. Tender and hard. One minute sympathetic and genuinely concerned about him. The next minute she would be as walled off and disdainful as she had been that first day when she refused to shake his hand. Back and forth, up and down until he thought he was going to get whiplash.

There were a lot of things he didn't understand about that time. Some of them he still wondered about. Like that trip she took with Jon and Travis. They came back and none of them ever said a word about it. Even now, she wouldn't tell him where they went, or what they did while they were away. Another secret. Always secrets with her. Always something else to hide.

She hadn't told him about the Pa'anar until she knew they were bonded. Even then, she explained that she wanted Phlox to check him out and make sure that there was no chance of any residual effect from the Pa'anar causing harm to him. Otherwise she probably wouldn't have told him even then.

She never told him about spending a wedding night with Koss. She never would have either, he was certain of it. She would have taken that secret to her grave, except Ganlas spilled the beans. Why burden hubby with an inconvenient truth after all?

He had tried to ask her about the other T'Pol, the one they met aboard Daniel's ship. He knew that they had met privately and spoken about the alternate time line. Trip had asked her to tell him what T'Pol's alternate self had revealed. Even a general idea of how things had gone. But she refused, saying that since the other time line never happened and never would, there was no point discussing it. And then she clammed up tight on the subject.

She hadn't told him about the trellium until it started messing with his head. Another thing that she held back until she had no other choice. Trip doubted that she was ever going to tell him anything that he did not absolutely need to know.

How much of that was the drug? All of it? Part of it? What about the two of them? She could lie until she was bronze in the face, he knew perfectly well that she had seduced him that first night because she was so jealous of Amanda that she couldn't see straight. Was that the drug too? Did he owe his family to a drug addiction?

A stab of pain like a hot knife ripped through Trip's guts and doubled him over. He gasped and tried to hold in the moan, breathing in shallow sips until the agony passed. Nerves. Phlox told him that this was going to keep happening unless he learned to relax. Trip choked out what would have been a laugh if he had been able to breathe properly. Relax. Right.

He remembered Azati Prime again. The engine room was full of smoke from burning components. People were shouting and running, trying to stave off the inevitable.

"_Martin!"_ The grieving wail had echoed through the room.

"_He's dead. There's nothing you can do. Come on."_

"_No! Martin!"_

"_He's dead, Kelly. And if we don't stop that coolant leak, the rest of us are gonna be dead too. Come on!"_

Trip buried his face his hands and dug fingernails into his scalp until blood ran. How many people died because of her? There would never be any way to know. But now, he would always wonder. How could he live with that?

"_...Do you, Charles Tucker III, take this woman... for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for so long as you both shall live?"_

He threw back his head and shouted at the sky in frustration. "How much more am I supposed to take? You give me a son, and then you take him away. You give me a daughter and a wife, and now you are trying to take them away too. What about all this mercy you are supposed to have, huh? Where is it?" He bowed his head in pain and shook it.

"_...for better or worse..."_

It wasn't like she went looking for it. Nobody knew the trellium worked on Vulcans like that until they found the Seleya. Even then, she didn't start deliberately using it until after the second exposure, when they ran into her in the corridor. After she was exposed a second time because HE wasn't careful enough.

"_...in sickness and in health..."_

Why didn't Phlox do something? Why didn't he see what was happening to her? Did she try to get help? Couldn't he have done something to help her fight it?

"_...for better or worse... for so long as you both shall live."_

That was the long and the short of it, wasn't it? So long as you both shall live. There wasn't any loophole in it. Trip dropped his hands and stared at the fountain again. His eyes blurred from fatigue and sun glare. The reflections from the pool at the base of the fountain rippled and waved. In Trip's unfocused gaze they started to look like dancing candle flames. He started the deep breathing exercises again. A timeless interval passed.

Trip blinked several times and shifted his eyes when he heard the garden door open. The atmosphere in T'Para's meditation garden was almost completely silent, thanks to a sound deadening field that surrounded this closed off corner of the privacy wall. Only the stirring breeze and the tinkle of her tiny fountain broke the stillness. The click of the door latch, which would have been almost imperceptible under normal conditions, seemed remarkably loud in this holy place.

T'Para stood looking at him, weighing and measuring. Trip devoutly hoped that it wasn't for a shroud. He uncrossed his legs and swung them off the bench, working his toes to get some feeling back in them. For some reason he felt disinclined to speak, he had no idea why. She waited until Trip stood up before walking around the fountain to join him.

"Do you feel better, Trip?" T'Para searched his face analytically.

"Yeah. I do actually." T'Para noted that Trip's face looked more relaxed than she had ever seen it. Although realistically, she had never seen him when he wasn't either surrounded by large numbers of his wife's kin, or being interrogated by law enforcement officials.

"Satisfactory," T'Para told him. "You will come here each morning and spend two hours meditating before sunrise. Then you will eat your morning meal. You and T'Pol will join me for joint lessons until midday. At midday you will pause for a meal, while I continue lessons alone with T'Pol. After your midday meal you will return here to resume meditation until time for the evening meal. After the evening meal, you and T'Pol may have free time together with T'Lissa until you retire at 0800. Do you have any questions?"

Trip swallowed. "No, ma'am."

"Now," T'Para said briskly, "since the two of you have spent the entire day brawling, it is time for the evening meal. Come and cleanse yourself. T'Pol is waiting for you inside. When you are ready, she will show you to the dining area." He followed her meekly back into the house.

-&-

V'Rald put his fingertips together and considered the report in front of him carefully. Kerlek's junior assistant was betrothed to a distant cousin of V'Rald's eldest daughter's husband's niece. Obtaining a copy of the medical records for T'Pol's adopted child had been a simple matter, albeit quite expensive.

Except that the child wasn't adopted. The report left no doubt about the matter. The clone did not die, as the official reports insisted. Kerlek was even conducting some type of research project on the creature, in conjunction with the Denobulan doctor aboard Enterprise.

The Sub-Minister leaned back in his chair and swiveled to look out his office window at the waning sunlight. Surely this information could be useful. But it was imperative to move with extreme caution. The High Council itself was responsible for disseminating the campaign of false information. Therefore, anyone deliberately flouting the wishes of the High Council by revealing the clone's existence was committing professional suicide. If not even, perhaps, actual suicide. Tucker was not likely to submit to such an attack without responding.

But something would have to be done, and soon. The family had already been removed from consideration for three different projects, based solely on Tucker's unproven accusation. V'Rald himself had seen a significant decrease in attempts to contact him for favorable arrangements with the Science Directorate. Even his daughters were reporting that their husband's business activities had experienced damage from this situation.

All because of L'Sira and her ridiculous letter. V'Rald rubbed his tired eyes. He had not slept in four days, and it was beginning to take a toll on him. The logical thing for him to do would be to close off this report and go home. After a long night's sleep and a good meal, his thought processes would undoubtedly move more clearly.

He shut down the monitor and put the data cartridge in his pocket. As he moved toward the door he contemplated the circumstances of the clone's creation. It was surprising that the Humans were capable of achieving a viable result, especially considering their moratorium on genetic research following the Eugenics wars. That xenophobic organization, Terra Prime, must possess unexpected resources.

He stopped suddenly, just a few steps short of the door. They had already made one attempt on Tucker's life here, and nearly succeeded. The fact that they had also come close to killing T'Pol did not concern V'Rald. If she chose to bond herself to a Human, then she must expect to become involved in Human savagery. And of course the clone was a nonentity as far as V'Rald was concerned. It was merely a scientific curiosity, at most.

Removing Tucker would not wipe out the accusation regarding Koss' marriage, but it would prevent any further damage. It would also help discredit the original charge by demonstrating the utter savagery of Humans. Even if Tucker survived, killing the clone would effectively disable both Tucker and T'Pol for an indefinite period, while leaving the family completely free of suspicion. All he had to do was arrange for Terra Prime to be notified that the clone survived, and make sure that they were provided with the resources needed to carry out a successful assassination.

Extreme caution in the highest degree was called for. Most certainly no word of it could be allowed to reach L'Sira or Koss. Either of those two would be certain to let something slip and induce disaster. V'Rald turned around and went back to his desk. Reaching down, he unlocked a secret compartment and withdrew an encrypted PADD containing a list of contacts. The names on the PADD were not the kind of people that a Sub-Minister had any business knowing. They were not the kind of people that any law abiding citizen had any business knowing.

But they all owed V'Rald their lives and/or their freedom. And each of them knew that he still retained the power to repossess both at his option. He scanned the list patiently, looking for the most appropriate name.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Father to the Man**

by Blackn'blue (aka Bluenblack)

**Warning:** Violence, Adult Language, Adult Situations, Rampant Sexism, Politically Incorrect Social Commentary, Uncouth Fashion Sense, Scary Old Ladies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Description: **This is the third story in my series that began with For Want of A Nail and continued with In the Cold of the Night. I suggest reading those before tackling this one. Otherwise many of the references won't make any sense. This story was originally posted to the HoT website in eight parts on November 2006, December 2006 and February 2007. As I explained in my first posting, the whole series started as a simple stand-alone story that got completely out of hand.

**Note:** Vulcan words used in this story were either stolen wholesale from the Vulcan Language Dictionary at /vld/, the online Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

* * *

Chapter 6

Malcolm Reed nodded acknowledgment to the salute from the MACO standing guard and opened the door to cargo bay two. He stood respectfully in the open doorway until one of the hooded figures looked up and nodded slowly. Reed stepped through the doorway and sealed the door behind him, locking and securing it with his personal code.

The two Vulcans waited patiently as he pulled out a scanner and made a meticulous sweep of the room. After finding and neutralizing the first set of monitoring devices upon their arrival, none of them had found any other evidence of intrusion. But each of the three took pains to make a thorough check before initiating a conference. This time the entire EM band was clean of anything suspicious.

Just to be safe, Reed walked over to the empty sarcophagus and felt along the edge until he located the proper carving. He pressed and twisted according to the instructions he had received at the Vulcan embassy, and felt the hum as the jamming field activated. Now, they could talk in privacy.

Agent's Keval and Selera joined Reed beside the box. The three stood facing inward with heads lowered. Malcolm spoke in a voice so low that it was almost sub-vocal, so softly that the average Human would have had difficulty hearing him. The Vulcans, of course, had no problem. Still, Reed tried to move his lips as little as possible. He began talking faintly in fluent Gaelic, "We have received word. Confirmed. They have been ordered to strike."

Keval answered him in a lisping, sizzling language that resembled a tiger purring. Reed couldn't stop himself from smiling grimly. Even if someone had managed, somehow, to work through the jamming field they were unlikely to have the forethought to set up a universal translator. And even if, by some fluke, they did have a UT hooked into the monitoring equipment, what were the odds that it would contain the matrix for the dialect of the extinct F'thinra Kathir tribe, who inhabited the Gol region on Vulcan centuries before Surak was born?

"This is agreeable news," Keval said with satisfaction. "We are well prepared for any attempt that the Terra Prime agents decide to make."

Malcolm winced. "It's not agreeable to me, nor to the captain. Nor to any other decent Human. It is despicable that they would consider something this vile. We are deeply ashamed of this, and we sincerely appreciate your assistance in this matter."

Selera and Keval traded looks. Selera answered, "We have certainly known your people long enough to be aware that this behavior is not condoned. In my time among your people I have often noted, Lieutenant Commander Reed, that you tend to be your own harshest critics. Rest assured, Humans are by no means exclusive in being burdened with a criminal element."

Keval added, "Our assistance is also not entirely selfless. Terra Prime has already been responsible for the theft and misuse of genetic material from a Vulcan citizen, bombing of a Vulcan embassy, attempted murder of our ambassador, and attempted murder of our citizens on Vulcan itself. It is absolutely in our interest to help you eradicate them."

Reed flushed. "I promise you, they will taste justice down to the bitter dregs for what they have done. If we can capture these two alive, they will spend the rest of their days buried alive in a stone cage. And their masters will die for their crimes. Strapped to a table, helplessly watching death drip into their veins one drop at a time, after a very slow, very humiliating public trial."

Keval kept his face impassive. "I personally would prefer Tal'Shaya to either of those options. However, it is not my place to offer an opinion. We will be ready for any attempt when it comes." Reed nodded and reached to deactivate the jamming field. He made sympathetic inquiries of Lady Selera regarding her needs, and repeated Captain Archer's offer to provide anything that she might require. Then he traded the salute with Keval and left.

A few minutes of contemplative silence followed Malcolm's departure. Then Selera ventured, speaking in the same extinct dialect, "He seems vengeful. It is almost as if this is a personal vendetta for him."

"I believe that, to some extent, it is," Keval told her. "You recall that one of the traitors is a member of the security department? Mr. Reed was chief of security aboard this ship before being promoted to First Officer. He considers this matter a personal betrayal."

"I see," Selera nodded. "But I get the impression there is something even more. There is a passion in him about this."

"They seek to prove themselves," Keval told her. "Humans know that many of our people were of the opinion that they were not ready to expand into deep space yet. I believe that they consider it imperative that they prove to us, to the other races of the quadrant, and most of all to themselves, that they are in fact ready."

"They judge themselves harshly," Selera said. "No one expects them to be perfect. But I think they expect it of themselves. They appear to have very little mercy toward one of their own who breaks their codes."

"They will learn to become more flexible with time," Keval said confidently. "They will have no choice. The galaxy itself will force them to."

-&-

Gonzales glanced around the galley. Chef was busy in the walk-in freezer, and no one else was looking. He slid the plastic cup over and poured a quick dose of red wine. He downed it like a drink of water and closed his eyes. It helped a little, but not much. Too bad he didn't dare sneak any of the brandy. But Chef would certainly notice and take his scalp, ears, and privates for trophies if he touched it.

Matty had everything she needed, or so she claimed. Thank all the dark powers that the captain had put a hold on that blasted training exercise for the present. When Matty told him that, Louis had almost shit his pants in relief. She laughed at him. Again. Crazy bitch. Gonzales shot a quick look around and poured himself another shot. It was bad enough trying this insane stunt. Doing it with the whole freakin' security department chasing around and watching everyone else with eyes like tweezers...no way.

Of course Matty just thought it would have added to the fun. Suicidal broad actually relished the thought of trying to pull this off right under the noses of Reed and the captain, using the infiltrator exercise as a smoke screen. Gonzales shuddered. He had to get out of this game. Once his term was up, he was leaving Starfleet. He couldn't take any more of this. Beta colony was always looking for strong backs. Maybe he could start over there. Become a farmer or something. Anything was better than living like this.

He slipped the bottle back on the shelf and got back to work, oblivious of the watching eyes.

-&-

Trip leaned on his hands and stared through the glass at the stars. T'Khut was low in the sky behind T'Para's house, casting an indigo shadow that stretched out to erase the garden wall in front of him. A three meter high mass of impenetrable obsidian terminated in a razor sharp line. Above that line, the sky was on fire with crystalline light, blazing like the dilithium chamber of Enterprise's warp core at top speed. The stone sill under his palms numbed his skin, and the cold stone of the floor made his feet ache. But he did not move.

Behind him, T'Pol lay awake in the bed and watched him silently. She had been waiting for him for hours. First he had sat thinking in a chair. Then he had stood and looked out the window. Then he paced. Then back to the chair again. Now he was back at the window.

But he never looked at her. Not once since they put T'Lissa into the small trundle bed that T'Para kept for visiting children. T'Pol felt the cold air biting into his hands and feet as if they were her own. To her own eyes, the room was dim and vague, with only blended shadows to define the contents. But when she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could sometimes catch brief flashes of what it looked like through Trip's eyes. Bright, and colorful, and harsh.

They had eaten the evening meal in silence, as was Vulcan custom. Afterward Trip concentrated on T'Lissa to the exclusion of all else. Secretly T'Pol had been relieved at first. But as the evening aged, she became uncertain. He was trying to block her from the bond as best he could. But his stress was too high. What she felt trickling through was disheartening. They needed to talk.

How? What could she say to him? So she waited and watched him.

Finally, after more than half the night was gone, Trip bowed his head in defeat. He sighed in exhaustion and came to bed, careful to stay on his side and avoid touching her. Then he rolled over with his back to her and settled down for the night.

That did it. "Trip." He did not answer. She moved across the bed hesitantly and touched his back. He didn't respond. "Husband. I love you. I am sorry. I have failed you and proven myself unworthy. I do not ask forgiveness, for I have not earned that right. I beg you, that you will permit me the chance to earn back some small portion of your respect."

Trip groaned and rolled over onto his back. He stared at the ceiling. "Don't do that T'Pol. Don't ever beg me. Not for anything. Never."

"I am not worthy of anything more, Trip," she told him bluntly.

"Shut up," He snapped and rolled out of bed. He padded over to the window again and looked out at the sky. T'Pol lay where he had left her, running through her options. Trying to come up with something to do or say that would not set him off again.

Trip continued, "I want this understood right now. This bullshit about being worthy, or needing to earn the right to ask forgiveness, or any of that crap is gonna stop right now. I know it's Vulcan custom, and I don't give a fat rat's ass. Hear me? For once, you are going to pay some real attention to the fact that you have married a Human, T'Pol. In this, I'm going to demand my rights as your husband. You will comply with my wishes, as required under Vulcan tradition. You will refrain from unloading any further shit on me about being unworthy. Understood?"

"I understand, Trip," she told him quietly.

"You don't have to prove your worth to me, or to anyone else. Get that through your head." Oddly, Trip didn't sound angry to her. If anything, he sounded tired. "And you don't have to earn the right to ask forgiveness either. You already have it. I forgive you. For all of it. I already forgave you for all the times you lied to me before we got married. I knew up front that you were lying and hiding a lot of things from me. I decided that I could live with it, as long as you were straight with me from here on out. And as far as the drug abuse, I don't believe you did it on purpose, so it isn't a matter of forgiveness is it? We just have to live with it."

She stared at him. "Live with it?" she asked him in a daze.

"Yeah. Live with it." Trip turned away from the window. "You don't think much of me, do you? You talk about earning my respect back. Right. Why bother? It doesn't look like I'll ever earn any respect at all from you, will I?"

"Don't say that!" T'Pol sprang out of bed and ran to him. She grabbed his arms. "Please, Ashayam. Don't ever say that. You are the finest man that I have ever known. Your honor, your courage, they are above all others."

"No." Trip sighed. "You think I'm an oath breaker. Either that, or you have already forgotten the promises we made three months ago. Have you forgotten them?"

"I will never forget them," T'Pol said fiercely.

"Then you think my word is worth nothing," Trip concluded. "You believe that I can't be trusted, that I'll turn on you and that I have no honor. We swore for better or worse, T'Pol. Remember that? We also swore in sickness and in health. But you expected me to just bail out and abandon you when I found out about this, didn't you? You thought my given word meant nothing to me. And you thought my love was just a word, that it meant nothing to me either." He turned back to the sky.

"Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear," she quoted Surak. "I failed to do that, Trip. I never doubted your honor. I have seen it too many times. I hid the truth from you because I was afraid, and because I was ashamed. Not because I doubted you. I never doubted you. But my choice was not based on reason. It was based on fear."

"So your head believed me, but your heart still doesn't trust me." He sounded very sad. "What more can I do, T'Pol? How much more can I do to prove myself to you, to convince you to have faith in me? I left my world and my people for you. What more can I give you?"

"There is nothing lacking in you, Husband," T'Pol told him firmly. "The weakness lies within me. It is something that I must overcome, and I shall. But first, there is a matter to be settled between us." She knelt beside him and took his hand, placing it against her face.

"Trip, you have been able to feel that I concealed things from you. I know this. Touching me like this, do you believe that I could lie to you?" She looked up at him and met his curious eyes.

"No," he said slowly. "Not a direct lie."

T'Pol let her breath out in a long sigh. "I deserve that. But it will be enough for now, for tonight, if you are certain that I will not be able to tell you a direct lie. Will you be able to believe this?"

"Yes," Trip said, looked puzzled.

She looked him straight in the eye. "I have never mated with Koss. He wanted to, but I refused him." She waited, watching his brows pull together. "Since the night we came together in the Expanse, no man has touched me but you."

Trip stood and felt uncertain. It didn't feel like a lie. It didn't make any sense. "Then why did you lie... no. You didn't really lie to me, did you?" He paused to consider. "Why didn't you tell me about the night you spent together? If there was nothing to hide, why did you hide it?"

"I was not really hiding it," T'Pol told him ruefully. "For once, I was not hiding something. This one time I simply did not see any reason to mention it. It was an unpleasant part of the ceremony. Once it was done, I wanted to forget it. Nothing happened, it was over, and I preferred to pretend that it never occurred. I certainly did not relish discussing it with you, knowing that it would make you unhappy to talk about it also."

"Sometimes," Trip said, "It's better to talk the unpleasant things out and get them out of the way. That way they don't come back to bite you in the ass later."

"As I am in the process of discovering," T'Pol admitted. He started to remove his hand, but she grabbed it and put it back. "I am not done yet. First, do you believe me now?"

Trip rubbed his brow. "I... I guess so. It doesn't feel like you are lying about it. It doesn't make any sense to me. But it doesn't feel like a direct lie anyway."

T'Pol realized sadly that even with the connection of the bond, part of Trip was still watchfully on guard against her. A piece of his mind was always waiting, wary of attempts on her part to misdirect him. She closed her eyes and silently repeated to herself every curse word she had ever heard uttered during her four years aboard Enterprise. It was a long list. Strangely, it actually helped her feel better.

"I remember how, when we first learned about Elizabeth," T'Pol said wistfully, "you suspected me of secretly arranging her birth without your knowledge. Because of my past behavior, you are always rightfully suspicious. Trip, I am going to make sure that you never have cause to be suspicious of me again. Before we leave here, I intend to tell you everything I have ever hidden from you. I will answer every question you ask me, no matter what it may be. I will hide nothing more from you. So long as we both shall live."

He knelt beside her, suddenly to tired and weak to stand. "That's all I have ever wanted, honey. Just be straight with me. I can take anything, as long as you are straight with me." They gathered each other into an unbalanced hug, with each of them on one and a half knees.

"I want you to promise me something," Trip said, pulling back. "I am serious here, I need your solemn promise. This is very important to me."

"What is it?" She looked anxious.

"I want your word of honor that if I get out of control again, you will do whatever it takes to put me out before I hurt someone," Trip told her tightly. "Stun me, nerve pinch me, belt me with a stick, whatever it takes. Promise me?"

She grimaced. "I do not believe that it will be necessary. But I promise you, Trip. I will do my best to stop you from hurting anyone if you lose control again." He tilted his head at her phrasing.

"What did you just get through saying about being deceptive?" T'Pol winced.

"I am not being deceptive. I do not know if I can make myself actually use force against you or not. I will try. But if I can't, I will do what I can to prevent you from hurting anyone else regardless."

Trip nodded and looked relieved. "Good enough then. Let's go to bed." They helped each other up and fell, more than climbed, onto the bed. Both were asleep in seconds.

-&-

The Section 31 operative shook his head in disappointment. On the one hand, it was certainly useful that Malcolm had overlooked the hidden camera and microphone. On the other hand, this was most definitely a serious deficiency in the boy's training. He ran all over the cargo bay with that silly little scanner checking for active sensor probes, and when he didn't find anything looked all happy and satisfied.

The old man snorted derisively. The Vulcans were really no surprise. He was constantly amazed that any people so naive could have survived out in space as long as they had without being eaten alive. Like during that heist all those years ago, when he had walked out with the injectors. He almost hated to do it, they were so innocently trusting. It was like kicking a little puppy.

But Malcolm should certainly have known better. He was making the chronic mistake of young people nowadays. He overlooked the obvious in favor of the technical. Why bother with breaking your heart and your head trying to bypass all that fancy jamming equipment? All he had to do was set up some passive monitors. A simple video camera in the ventilation system, with a simple _physical_ cable running through the ductwork to connect to the power grid. An equally simple inductance coil activated microphone, also connected to the video camera via a physical cable. A crude but effective plastic cone in front of the microphone, to concentrate the sound like an ancient ear horn. Both of them constantly monitoring.

Nothing to see on a scan. The signal from the shielded cable was piggybacked on the power current. It was a technology first developed in the twentieth century as a way to provide data access to remote locations. Unless someone knew it was there and specifically looked for it, the signal would never show up. Even if they did, the information could be tapped from literally anywhere on the ship. There was no possible way to track the source of the spy.

Malcolm had really fumbled the ball on this one. He spent all his efforts on checking for scanners, or transmitters, or some other modern form of monitoring device. The kid had not even thought to look for an archaic self-contained video camera. The elder operative wanted to smack the youngster in exasperation.

At least he showed some resourcefulness in allowing for the possibility of an undetected monitor. The old man grinned. Gaelic huh? Like the Code Talkers of Earth's second world war. Even if the enemy broke the code, it still came out in a language they were not likely to be able to understand. And the Vulcans were using what sounded like a very, very old version of Insular Golic, with a lot of extra words and weird pronunciation. Ah well, not a problem. He activated the universal translator matrix and instructed it to provide him with a clear stream. In seconds he was reading an English transcription of the conversation.

All right then. They claimed to be ready. Let them try to handle Wu if they thought they could deal with her. Personally he had his doubts. The girl could move like a python. She was smart, and fast, and knew everything there was to know about weapons. Beyond all of that, the lass had an innate feel for dirty tactics. He anticipated that at least one, if not both, of those Vulcans were going to pay for their confidence with their asses. But if they wanted to give it a shot, who was he to stand in their way?

Louis Gonzales was a different matter. This one was personal. He sighed. What went wrong with the boy? He was raised better than this. He had a proper family background, a good foundation to build from. It was a shame, it really was. Louis could have come to him. He could have gone to Jon, or Malcolm, or any of the senior officers. Any of them would have helped him. Starfleet would have protected his family from Terra Prime. If they couldn't, the Section certainly could.

Too bad for the kid. He had thrown his dice and they came up snake eyes. From the moment he passed on the contract to his partner and agreed to set up the hit, he went past the point of no return. The universe didn't give second chances on life or death decisions. The old man shook his head and continued with preparations to remove Gonzales as a factor in any future difficulties aboard Enterprise. For the first time in many years, he was going to carry out a termination with a twinge of real regret. But he had no trouble suppressing it.

-&-

For perhaps the first time since they moved to Vulcan, Trip woke up before either T'Pol or the baby. He eased carefully out of bed and padded barefoot across the cold stone floor to the equally cold bathroom. He used the facilities and brushed his teeth at top speed, then hopped into the shower, setting the water temperature as high as he could stand it. Rapid scouring got his blood moving again.

Trip came out from behind the opaque shower stall to find T'Pol dropping T'Lissa's first diaper of the day into the waste disposal unit. She gave him an appraising look and handed him a towel. He took it with a smile and started rubbing his hair. "I better get a move on," he muttered cheerfully. "I don't want T'Para to check and find me not in place out in the meditation spot. In that case, serenity is likely to be the last thing I achieve."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "She is unlikely to berate you for oversleeping on your first morning here Trip."

"I'm not in the mood to take chances, hun," he told her with a quick peck. Trip hustled back into the bedroom and started digging out his clothes. T'Pol returned to find him teasing T'Lissa with a sock, dangling it over her and encouraging her to grab for it. The two of them immediately engaged in a fierce tug of war, complete with sound effects. Momma promptly broke up the battle, citing the baby's current state of undress. "She is not wearing a diaper, Trip. Getting her excited is perhaps not the wisest course of action at this time."

T'Pol eventually managed to get both of her charges properly clothed. No thanks to Trip, who complicated matters with T'Lissa by hanging over the head of the trundle bed, making faces and emitting uncouth sounds that sent the child into paroxysms of laughter. Ordinarily T'Pol would have expressed irritation. But she was so relieved and happy to see his improved state of mind that, just this once, she would not have offered a peep of objection if he had decided to re-attempt the Great Pudding Debacle.

Fortunately for T'Pol's blood pressure and T'Para's furnishings, Trip wasn't quite that giddy with relief. His wife eventually managed to finish supervising his dressing and shoo him on his way for his assigned two hours of morning meditation in T'Para's garden. Then she settled down with T'Lissa's bottle and started attempting to calm her own mind for what was coming.

A light tapping at the door announced that her taskmistress had arrived. T'Para nodded approvingly at T'Lissa's enthusiastic appetite. "The child is eating well I see. Most satisfactory. If, as you say, she develops approximately fifty percent faster than a Vulcan baby I can see the necessity for rapid intake of nutrition."

"We are facing a long term challenge," T'Pol admitted. "Her physical and mental development will be atypical for either race. Trip also tells me that Human children normally exhibit rebellious behavior at frequent intervals. Sometimes even open defiance. Instilling proper discipline will be a complex matter."

"You cannot master others until you have first mastered yourselves," T'Para observed. "Is my tired old brain displaying the first stages of senility, or did I detect the sound of whistling in the hallway this morning?"

"You were not mistaken." T'Pol gave her a quick summary of the previous night's conversation. "He woke up this morning and seemed happy again. I am not certain how to react now."

"Would you prefer that he remain enraged?" T'Para inquired mildly, taking T'Lissa and administering a brisk burping with practiced hands. She was rewarded with a massive eructation that momentarily startled both of the Vulcan women. Then, retrieving the bottle from T'Pol, the Eldest Mother resumed stoking the kid with yet more nutrition.

"No, of course I would not," T'Pol protested. "But I know my adun, Eldest Mother. It is not possible that he has come to terms with what I did this quickly. I am confused."

"Trip has been forced to deal with many shocks and stresses over the past few days, Daughter," T'Para murmured. "Each of us has a limit. I theorize that Trip has reached his limit of stress reaction for the present. The primary high stress trigger yesterday involved your concealing the seclusion period from him, and his subsequent reaction to this. Being relieved of this burden has, for the present, allowed his mind a badly needed respite. No doubt you will be forced to deal with the ramifications of other matters later. For now, he is at least able to stop stressing over one matter."

"I suppose it would be futile to protest further that I did not deliberately conceal the fact of the seclusion period from him," T'Pol said with a touch of disgust.

"Correct," T'Para confirmed. "It would be futile." T'Pol rolled her eyes but did not otherwise reply.

T'Para went on, "For this morning, you have an assignment, Daughter of my Clan." T'Pol looked up sharply. "You will obtain a PADD. You will settle your mind and search your memory. You will begin to document a complete list of all remaining issues wherein you have been less than fully open with your adun. All issues, Daughter of my Clan, no matter how seemingly slight or insignificant you might consider them to be."

"I will do this, Eldest Mother," T'Pol agreed. "Shall I have it ready to give to Trip after breakfast?"

"It is unlikely in the extreme that you will complete it today," T'Para told her bluntly. "I doubt sincerely that you are able or willing at this point to acknowledge, even to yourself, the entire list. In any case we need to hear Trip's input on the matter. But certainly, bring the list with you for your joint lesson. You may present the partial list for his review and comment."

T'Pol kept her face still. "Yes, Eldest Mother."

-&-

Ambassador Soval opened his eyes reluctantly and spoke to the darkness in his sleeping chamber. "Acknowledged. I am awake. Bide a moment." He swung his legs off the bed and walked over to the closet for his lounging robe. Then he answered the door with, perhaps, slightly less than his usual bland politeness.

"Yes, Kioras, what is it?" Soval asked his most junior attaché, reflecting that some things never change. Invariably, it was the newest member of the staff who was sent to awaken the ambassador when a message came in the middle of the night.

"Ambassador," the young man said nervously, "there is an urgent message. It is from an anonymous individual, but the identification codes are verified as authentic for the Security Directorate."

Soval dismissed the youngster and headed for his office at a brisk pace. Not jogging, but not far from it. An urgent message from the Security Directorate at this hour, especially from someone who refused to provide their identity, was likely to be a top priority matter.

Soval slid into his chair and activated the comm link. He was not surprised to find that the screen remained dark. The voice on the comm, plainly machine generated, demanded, "_Confirm identification." _

Soval complied. Then he said, "Awaiting message."

"_Linyarn, son of Senal, known smuggler and suspected assassin, arrived on Earth at 0227 hours Greenwich time yesterday. He had been traveling as a passenger aboard the Tellurite cargo ship Griklar's Dripping Tusks under false identity. He was identified upon arrival by Human operatives. Upon leaving the spaceport he was captured and interrogated. Interrogation revealed that his assigned contract had been to notify Terra Prime of the continued survival of the Tucker clone. He also carried detailed information concerning the security arrangements protecting the Tucker family on Vulcan. Linyarn identified Sub-Minister V'Rald as his client. Linyarn has been terminated." _

The comm link went abruptly dead, as did Soval's entire computer system. He attempted to activate several controls but to no avail. The ambassador sat back in his chair and 6.9 minutes later his senior aide, J'Nal, came into his office to inform him, "Ambassador, the communications system for the embassy has suffered a temporary malfunction. The entire memory core will have to be replaced and reloaded from backup."

"Why am I not astonished?" Soval murmured to himself. J'Nal gave him an odd look and Soval realized what he had done. Once again, he chided himself on having spent too many years among Humans. "Acknowledged, J'Nal. I am returning to bed. Notify me if another emergency occurs. As soon as communications are restored, arrange for a secure comm link to the captain of the nearest Vulcan cruiser."

Soval headed back to his room replaying recent events. He harbored dark suspicions about whether the message he had received really came from the Security Directorate. Such detailed information concerning Human clandestine operations was most unlikely to be available to any Vulcan operative. The minuscule few who might perhaps be capable of obtaining such knowledge would have no reason to hide their faces from Soval.

Either way, T'Pau would have to be notified. He started composing the letter.

-&-

Trip spooned up his thick porridge with real appetite. "This is really good, T'Para. Back home we make something like this out of grass seeds. Is that what this is?" He scooped up another mouthful, capturing a fruit chunk this time.

T'Para hoisted a minor eyebrow at him. "Actually it is pulp from a desert plant, mixed with shaved roots. I am pleased that you find it agreeable. Feel free to eat as much as you wish, the available supply is plentiful."

"Thanks," Trip grinned and dug back in. T'Pol finished her bowl and pushed it back, watching fondly as her husband wolfed his way through his third helping. "I haven't had much appetite the last day or two, but this is really great."

T'Lissa watched with her beady little eyes gleaming, and her fingers started reaching for T'Pol's spoon so she could join in. Trip noticed and tipped a tiny spot of porridge onto the tip of his own spoon and offered it to her.

"She is too young, Trip," T'Pol objected.

"A little taste won't hurt her," he pleaded, and inserted the blob between his daughter's lips as T'Para watched with interest. T'Lissa licked her lips and got a good taste of the stuff, then promptly spit the wad back out all over Trip's hand with a repulsed grimace. "Oh well," he said philosophically, "more for me," and went back to eating.

After breakfast they retired to the front room. T'Para provided a wide pad for T'Lissa to sprawl out on while Trip and T'Pol sat alongside her on cushions. The Eldest Mother settled herself on her favorite chair and propped her feet up. She seemed in no hurry to start lecturing them, which didn't provoke any complaints from her guests. The three adults enjoyed themselves watching the baby crawl and play for awhile.

Finally T'Para asked, "How did your meditation proceed this morning, Trip?"

He raised his head from where he lay flat on his back with T'Lissa yanking his chest hair. "Restful. Relaxing." Trip returned to tickling the baby and she started flailing at him in joyous exuberance.

"And you, T'Pol," T'Para asked. "How far did you progress on your assignment?"

"Assignment?" Trip looked curious. T'Pol set her jaw.

"Yes. The Eldest Mother set me to the task of documenting all of the times that I have been less than completely forthright with you," T'Pol said tightly. "I have completed the list."

"Have you?" T'Para asked her mildly. "Well then, let us hear it."

T'Pol took a deep breath. Trip sat up and pulled T'Lissa into his lap, cuddling her carefully but not allowing any major upheavals. He watched closely as T'Pol gathered her forces.

"The first time," T'Pol said, looking Trip in the eye, "was after our first night together when I told you that it was merely an exploration for me. You knew better and so did I. I lied to you then." Trip did not change expression, he just nodded for her to go on.

T'Pol took another breath. "The second time was after we met Lorian." She looked at him with wet eyes. "I know how much it meant to you to meet him. It meant just as much to me. Everything that happened then was so frightening to me, so unexpected that I could not cope with it. I had no idea what to think. My emotions were out of control, and I was afraid that if I allowed myself to acknowledge them, I would break down completely. So I pretended once again that I felt nothing. I lied again."

"The third and final time," T'Pol said, "was when we came to Vulcan and you met my mother. After Koss made his claim, I spoke with my mother about you. We argued, because she knew what I felt for you. When I told you at the Fire Plains that I was to marry Koss, what I really wanted to say was that I loved you. I wanted to tell you that I did not want Koss, that I wanted you. But I was afraid. I feared that you might not truly love me, or want me, after the way I had treated you in the Expanse. And so I hid my feelings once again."

"You claim that this is everything T'Pol?" T'Para asked her in a voice suddenly hard. "I told you to write down every time that you had been less than open with your adun. Not merely every time that you had lied to him. Do you truly maintain that this is every single time?"

"Yes, Eldest Mother," T'Pol raised her chin.

"Is this true Trip?" T'Para snapped at him.

"Not really," Trip said mildly. "Not even close." T'Pol looked startled.

"When? When else have I hidden anything from you?" She demanded.

Trip snorted. "We don't have all day, do we?"

"Yes, we do," T'Para said emphatically. "We have all day. And all day tomorrow. And all day the day after tomorrow. And as many days as it takes until this matter is settled."

Trip sighed. "We do need to get back to work though. I appreciate you letting us stay here, and the chance to rest up. That garden of yours is worth a week's vacation by itself. But we have commitments to meet. Those plans are not going to design themselves."

"You are on medical leave, Trip," T'Pol informed him. "I arranged it while you were in the clinic at the embassy. Doctor Phlox will confirm it when he arrives."

He paused uncertainly. "Medical leave?"

"Yes, Trip," T'Para said. "Are you fully confident in the safety and security of your family in your current condition?" Trip wilted in front of their eyes.

"No," he said in a very weak voice, shaking his head. "No, I'm not. I feel better now. But I can't swear that I could stop myself from blowing up again, since I don't really understand why it happened before."

"Which is why you are here." T'Para looked at them both. "Now. Let us continue from before. What else has T'Pol hidden from you?"

Trip said awkwardly, "Well. A lot of things."

"Such as?" T'Pol said testily. T'Para raised a hand with two fingers pressed closely together and gave her a stern look. T'Pol subsided, disgruntled.

"Like..." Trip shrugged. "Where did you go and what did you do that time when you and Jon and Travis snuck off in a shuttle pod together?"

T'Pol froze. No one spoke for a moment. Then T'Para told her, "Answer him, Daughter of my Clan."

"I... I cannot, Eldest Mother. It is classified," T'Pol scrambled for a reply.

"Really." Trip said in disgust. "My rating is Top Secret. Just like Jon's. In fact, my rating is higher than Travis'. So how come he qualified to know about it, but I didn't?" T'Pol look caught and on the verge of panic.

"You see, Daughter?" T'Para told her not unkindly. "It is not as simple, nor as easy as you expected. But your husband deserves an answer. Will you lie to him again? Did you not promise to tell him everything?"

"It was a mission for the Security Directorate," T'Pol forced out. "A fugitive needed to be retrieved, and I was called because I had prior experience with that particular criminal. I asked Captain Archer to assist me because I anticipated possible difficulty if I went alone. He ordered Ensign Mayweather to pilot the shuttle."

"OK. Now tell me the rest of it," Trip demanded. "Tell me why you looked like a rabbit staring a Rottweiler in the face when I asked you about it."

T'Pol sat quietly, staring at her hands clenched together in her lap. "I am sorry." They waited.

She looked up. "He and his partner were smuggling bio-toxins," she told them. "When I last found them, he escaped me but I killed his partner." Her voice was flatly mechanical, devoid of expression. "After killing his partner, my first time taking a sentient life, I was forced to retire to the Sanctuary at P'Jem for an extended period before I was able to resume my duties. When I received orders from the High Command to resume the hunt, I lacked confidence in my own ability to maintain objectivity. Therefore I requested Captain Archer's company."

"Were you successful, Daughter?" T'Para asked gently.

"Yes," T'Pol said weakly. "We captured the fugitive, and also confiscated his shipload of bio-toxins."

"So that's why it hit you so hard," Trip was looking at her sadly. "What happened at P'Jem I mean. That's why it hit you like a kick in the teeth when you found out they were hiding the listening post there." He reached over and touched her face. "How long were you there?"

She blinked a few times. "My memory of my time at the Sanctuary is blurred. I was... upset... by what happened. Killing someone drove me into a state that required the monks to suppress the memories of the event. It wasn't until we left to capture the second fugitive that I recalled the... first time."

"I'm sorry I asked." Trip whispered wretchedly. "I had no right to open those wounds. I am sorry."

"You had every right, Trip," T'Para said sternly. "Just as T'Pol has every right to know your pain. You cannot lend strength to each other if you refuse to reveal weakness, each to the other. You cannot heal each other unless you acknowledge pain. Much of this will not be pleasant to hear or speak, for either of you. But it is all necessary."

"She is right, Trip," T'Pol straightened. "We must do this."

"How did you react to this, Trip? When they left without telling you anything about the mission, and then returned and still kept silent?" T'Para watched his face keenly.

Trip shifted uncomfortably. Both of them women watched him, and he dropped his eyes only to find his daughter looking up at him with her own penetrating gaze. For an instant he was startled, and then he realized that she was merely fascinated by his zippered pocket.

"Jealous I suppose. Left out. Resentful. Disrespected more than anything else," Trip said. "I was left in command without any real explanation. My captain and first officer took off with the helmsman and never said where, who, why, or how long they would be gone. I had no way of contacting them in an emergency. I had no way of knowing what they were getting into. I had no way of judging whether they had been gone too long or not. I knew nothing at all. I was left with the full responsibility for the welfare of the ship, but given no information of any kind to base my decisions on. So I got upset about it. Then everyone came back and of course I was relieved. But still, nobody would tell me anything. They all just blew me off like I was irrelevant."

He looked up at T'Pol and finally allowed some irritation to show. "I think I had a right to resent it. I still think I had a right to resent it."

T'Pol looked unhappy. "You did, and you do. I did not perceive how it must have seemed from your point of view at the time. I am sorry, Ashayam. It was most unfair to you."

"That's that thing, isn't it?" Trip was still irritated. "You don't stop to consider how things seem from my point of view and you never have. You didn't warn me that Koss might be at the gathering because of how _you_ were uncomfortable talking about it. You didn't tell me about the wedding seclusion because _you_ didn't want to discuss it. Never mind how it affected me, or how it might cause me to react and affect anyone else around us.

He turned his head and swallowed, trying to bring his irritation under control before he got any angrier. In a few seconds her hand touched his. "Yes. Everything you said is true. I acknowledge it. I am trying with everything I am to change. Please believe me, husband. I am trying."

"There is much anger in you, Trip," T'Para observed. "I do not believe that all of it is derived from T'Pol's neural damage by any means. You have carried resentment for many things for a long time. It has simmered within you and, just as I have been warned is the case with your people, it has turned inward and sickened you. It must be purged, this much is becoming very plain. We have already seen what will happen if it is not purged - it will purge itself. Far better to release it under controlled conditions here. For now I believe it will be beneficial for you to return to meditation until it is time for your mid-day meal."

Trip slowly handed T'Lissa to her mother, over the child's objections. She urgently wanted to maintain possession of Trip's pocket. He knelt in front of T'Pol for a time, looking into her eyes and trying to find the right words. Finally he just said, "I love you." After he got up and shuffled out of the room, T'Pol finally let the tears trickle.

T'Lissa, nothing dismayed, decided to climb down and resume her attack on her exercise toy. The jangling squeaks and thumps provided welcome distraction to her mother. T'Para mercifully kept her attention focused on the baby while T'Pol got herself gathered back together.

"Did you feel what I was talking about, child?" T'Para asked her.

"Yes, Eldest Mother," T'Pol told her. "Once you had pointed it out to me, it was obvious. The ebb and flow of the bond is exactly as you described it. It simply never struck me before to attempt to distinguish the direction in which the emotions were flowing. Until now, I had perceived them more in the nature of a state of being, rather than an event."

"A common misconception," T'Para told her. "Continue to monitor the sensations. You will find that as you develop practice, it will become automatic. It is a simple matter to determine if your bond mate is blocking his emotions from you, or if he is open. That much is instinctive. But once the bond is open and flowing freely, that is when the perceptions become mingled and difficult to define. When both of you are emotionally activated, it can be quite challenging. But it is absolutely necessary for you to learn this."

"It was very difficult for me to absorb Trip's anger without responding," T'Pol said shakily.

"But you succeeded," T'Para told her approvingly. "Plainly there was no feedback occurring, since he remained in full control throughout the course of a conversation that was painfully provocative to him."

"_Not only to him,"_ T'Pol thought sadly. She wondered how many other things that she had not considered were going to come up. What other buried resentments had she caused in her husband? How many times had she provoked him without meaning to, without even being aware of it?

"And what of yourself, T'Pol?" T'Para reminded her. "What of your own pain? Are there no times in your past when he has hurt you? No memories that cry out for him to offer recompense to you?" She sat quietly and made no immediate reply.

-&-

Captain Archer sat down and said, "Good morning, Malcolm. Sleep well?" He picked up a napkin and spread it over his lap.

Reed settled into his own chair and replied, "Good morning, Sir. Actually I was up rather late last night. Since we only have four more days until arriving at Vulcan, I can't imagine that the Terra Prime agents will wait much longer. Frankly I am disquieted. I expected them to strike long before now."

Archer took a sip of water. "That's probably why they haven't Malcolm. Surely I don't have to lecture you, of all people, about never doing what your enemy expects. Getting tense won't help us. Remember what Sun Wu teaches about waiting at ease for the enemy to come to you."

Lieutenant Commander Reed slowly started to grin. "I see you took my advice then, Sir?"

"Yes I did," Archer told him. "And excellent advice it was. I haven't read the Art of War since I was an Ensign. A serious oversight on my part. I plan to get back into Clausewitz tonight."

"Most gratifying, Sir," Malcolm said happily. He looked up at the door leading from the captain's mess into the serving area. "I wonder what's keeping things? Gonzales is usually quite prompt in the mornings."

"You're right," Archer admitted. He keyed the comm and asked, "Captain to Gonzales." He waited a moment and repeated, "Captain Archer to Crewman Gonzales." No response.

Malcolm tossed his napkin on the table. "I'll go see what's keeping him. Perhaps there has been a spill in the kitchen or some such thing." Archer nodded and Malcolm headed out on his foraging expedition. In a moment the comm buzzed.

"_Reed here, Captain. I found out what was keeping Gonzales."_

"Nothing serious I hope," the captain responded. "What happened, did Chef burn the eggs?" he asked jokingly.

"_It is a bit more serious than that, Sir."_

"What's wrong Malcolm?" Archer leaned forward, catching the tone of his second in command's voice.

"_I am afraid Gonzales is dead, Sir."_

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Father to the Man**

by Blackn'blue (aka Bluenblack)

**Warning:** Violence, Adult Language, Adult Situations, Rampant Sexism, Politically Incorrect Social Commentary, Uncouth Fashion Sense, Scary Old Ladies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Description: **This is the third story in my series that began with For Want of A Nail and continued with In the Cold of the Night. I suggest reading those before tackling this one. Otherwise many of the references won't make any sense. This story was originally posted to the HoT website in eight parts on November 2006, December 2006 and February 2007. As I explained in my first posting, the whole series started as a simple stand-alone story that got completely out of hand.

**Note:** Vulcan words used in this story were either stolen wholesale from the Vulcan Language Dictionary at /vld/, the online Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

* * *

Chapter 7

T'Pol settled back on a cushion in front of the single candle in the bedroom that she shared with her husband. T'Para had the baby and was out strolling through the front garden, giving her mother a brief respite.

T'Pol needed the respite. Badly. While Trip spent his time in T'Para's meditation garden, striving to improve his inner discipline, T'Pol was laboring to master the art of empathic modulation.

T'Para approached the subject from a pragmatic point of view, she believed in teaching by using skills in real world application. So T'Para spent the morning subjecting T'Pol to the most emotionally disturbing stimuli that she could unearth, while simultaneously instructing the younger woman in how not to let the backlash of her emotions strike through the bond and destabilize her bond mate.

Finally T'Para decreed that T'Pol should take a break and collect herself before calling Trip for his lunch. Otherwise he was sure to notice her haggard appearance and become destabilized even without the bond. The young woman took a grateful breath and began to sink into meditation.

Slowly the pale mists formed. As T'Pol settled firmly into the third level of meditation her vital signs stabilized. Her breathing became shallow and steady as a metronome. Her heart vibrated with a fluttering rhythm that caressed her bones and muscles, soothing away her tension. Finally she entered the state of peaceful indifference that she sought. The cares and fears of the day fell away from her for a time, leaving her cleansed.

A timeless interval later she became aware of Trip's form materializing in front of her. He was sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed. For a time they two simply sat together, not speaking or moving. Then he opened his eyes and said, "Hi, Hun. How are you feeling now? You ok?"

She smiled weakly. "I am better, Trip. Is the meditation helping you?"

"Yeah," he paused to consider. "I think it really is. T'Para hasn't said anything yet about the deeper stuff she offered to teach me. But just sitting out here helps. It's almost impossible not to get peaceful when it's just me and this fountain and some weeds."

"I am pleased," she said simply. They fell silent for a while. Suddenly T'Pol blurted out, "Why did you lie to me, Trip?"

He started. "What? When did I lie to you?"

T'Pol blinked away the dampness from her eyes. "Do you remember when I came back after my marriage, and you were avoiding me? I tried to talk to you, to tell you that I still wanted to be close to you. But you lied to me."

"I didn't lie to you," Trip bristled. "I had just had my heart ripped out and set on fire. I told you I needed time to get used to -"

"Not that," she interrupted him sadly. "That was not what I meant." T'Pol bowed her head and brushed her eyes with the heel of her palms.

Trip was lost and said so. "Then I don't know what you are talking about. I never intended to lie to you, I can say that much for sure. If I did, I am sorry."

She took a shivering breath. "You told me that it was for the best. You led me to believe that you did not think we could have made things work between us in any case." She looked him in the eye. "And that was a lie."

Trip flinched and grimaced. "I...yeah. All right. You got me. I lied. Guilty as charged. I am sorry. At the time I figured I had lost you for good, and there was no point in making things harder than they had to be with moaning about what couldn't be helped. So I tried to pretend I didn't think it was any big deal, hoping that would make it easier for you."

She looked at him with annoyed wonder. "Even for a male, you can be so incredibly obtuse sometimes. Did it never occur to you that I might be willing to divorce Koss once the danger to my mother had passed?"

"Um, not really. No," he admitted. "I thought Vulcan marriages were for life. Didn't you tell me that you were marked now because Koss divorced you?"

T'Pol gritted her teeth. "There are several different options for dissolving a marriage. Koss chose to use the most ancient and traditional ritual. As the husband, it was his right to use the this option if he chose. But by using it the implication is that I betrayed him. Therefore I am now forever marked as dishonored."

"_Yet another reason to gut the sonuvabitch. This lad is just piling them up like cord wood,"_ Trip reflected.

He said aloud, "If I had realized that there was any reason to hope we might still have a future together, or that you still might want a future with me, I would have stuck to you like glue. You gotta believe that." He leaned forward earnestly and took her hands.

She shook her head. "I know that now. But at the time, your words destroyed my last hope, Trip. I felt bereft. To me then, it seemed that my only remaining option was to resign myself to a life with Koss as my husband." She looked up. "At that moment I began trying to distance myself from you. I failed of course. I could never escape from my bond mate. Forever and always, touching and touched." She rubbed her thumbs across the backs of his hands. "But it was then that I gave up hope for us. I stopped believing that you cared about me."

"Oh, No." Trip looked sick. He rose up on his knees and enfolded her in a fierce hug. She wrapped her arms around him in return and they remained like that for a time, until an external knocking sound pulled Trip out of the link.

T'Pol settled back and resumed her former position for a brief time, thinking. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she felt the corners of her mouth turn up faintly. Perhaps the Eldest Mother was right after all. Letting things out helped. She began pulling out of the meditative trance. Dinner and her family were waiting.

-&-

"Nothing, Doctor?" Captain Archer let the frustration spill out into his voice.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Phlox told him helplessly, throwing up his hands. "I have gone over this body from top to bottom twice. There is absolutely nothing to indicate that Crewman Gonzales' death was anything other than a tragic accident. See here," he pointed to the side of the skull. "That depressed fracture is an exact match for the corner of the service island, the one that he was found beside. Fragments of counter top material are embedded in the scalp and dura matter, while bone chips, blood and hair are present on the corner of the counter. This injury is plainly the cause of death, and the _only_ cause of death."

Archer turned and paced angrily across sickbay. "What about other marks? Any signs of a struggle? Bruises, choking?"

Phlox was shaking his head while Archer spoke. "Just like I told Lieutenant Commander Reed, there is no sign of any struggle, no indications that Gonzales was attacked, no reason to suspect foul play of any kind. From everything I can find it seems that he simply... slipped and fell."

Archer stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I don't mean to be short with you. It's just that I absolutely do not need this kind of thing right at this moment."

"Believe me, I understand," Phlox told him. "I'm sorry I can't help."

Archer nodded and walked out, thinking furiously. He headed for his ready room hoping that Malcolm would have something more solid to report.

He did. He did indeed. It was solid enough to break a tooth on, Archer reflected. He picked up the PADD with a grim expression and turned it over. The back cover was easily removable, exposing several connection jacks and controls that were by no means standard issue. "You found this in Gonzales' locker?"

"Yes, Sir," Reed told him with a scowl, "Along with these," he tossed a selection of small components onto the table in front of Archer. Each was slightly different, but all of them shared enough similar characteristics to argue a common origin. "Those are communication modules, sensors, encryption nodes, and this," Reed held up a small silver capsule, "is a laser. When it is plugged into the PADD's power supply like this..." he demonstrated, "it becomes a lethal one shot weapon."

Archer sat back and stared at the array on the table. "Section 31?"

"No, Sir," Reed responded promptly.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Too crude." Malcolm told him. "These items are effective enough, but they are not even close to what the Section is capable of producing. Moreover, if Gonzales was a Section 31 operative I can guarantee that I would not have found his gear sitting openly in his locker. Not even a first year trainee would be that careless, much less an agent cleared for field duty."

"Terra Prime, then." It wasn't a question.

"So it would seem, Sir."

"Which makes the chance that his death was an accident slim to none, regardless of what Phlox says," Archer sighed.

"Some great man once said that in a world of cause and effect, all coincidence is suspect." Malcolm offered, "But still, coincidence does happen."

"Look me in the eye and tell me you believe he died by accident Malcolm," Archer demanded.

"I'm not saying that, Sir," Reed protested. "I just want to point out that it isn't absolutely impossible."

"It isn't absolutely impossible that Harvard is going to win the water polo championship this year, but I won't hold my breath," Archer retorted. "We have three, count them Malcolm, three days until we reach Vulcan. In that length of time we have to somehow lure the other Terra Prime mole out of hiding or all of this elaborate charade has been for nothing. And now we have this to deal with. So the question now is, did his buddy kill him or do we have yet another player in the game aboard?"

Malcolm sat silently considering for several moments. Finally, "I am going to venture a guess that it was a falling out between the two of them, Sir. Perhaps Gonzales was getting cold feet, and his comrade eliminated him as a potential leak."

"Or vice versa," Archer offered. Reed shook his head.

"I think of the two it is more likely that Gonzales would be the one to back out if either of them did. Remember that the other mole is in security, whereas Gonzales is one of Chef's assistants. Hardly a trained assassin. Most likely he was getting scared and his partner thought he might sell out in order to buy leniency for himself."

"It would have worked too," Archer muttered. "I would have gladly cut him a deal." Malcolm nodded.

"If I am right," Reed went on, "the other Terra Primer will be planning to strike as soon as possible. They will expect me to search Gonzales' quarters and find his gear, so from this point on the risk is tripled for them. I have warned the Vulcans, and my staff is on high alert. All we can do now is wait for it."

"They will probably try to start some kind of diversion," Archer suggested. Malcolm nodded, a touch impatiently.

"Naturally," he said. "We are ready and waiting. But since we know their real target, a diversion won't accomplish any more than tying down a few of our people. Terra Prime is ruthless, but not suicidal. They are not likely to do anything to endanger the ship and risk their own life."

"Backup power to cargo bay two is operational?" Archer wanted to know.

"Yes, Sir," Malcolm confirmed. "Even if all power and life support to that area is cut off, the Vulcans will still be safe and have access to their systems."

"Good enough then," Captain Archer settled back, moderately satisfied. "As you said. Now we wait."

-&-

T'Para moved slowly along the stone bordered, gravel path that wound across the grounds of her home. Wind carved rocks offered weirdly shaped contrast to the twisted forms of tough Vulcan vegetation that filled scattered planters throughout the garden.

She paused to admire one of her prizes. A coiled purple vine with thorns as long as T'Para's hand offered menacing protection to its tiny yellow flowers, which bloomed once every seventh year in conjunction with the low point in Eridani's sunspot cycle. Tan colored insects, almost microscopically small, buzzed around the flowers to steal the precious nectar and spread the equally precious pollen. T'Lissa squealed and reached, trying to grab at the thorns.

"No little one," T'Para chided her. "As you will learn to your sorrow, simply because something is beautiful does not make it desirable." The old woman started pacing again.

T'Para paused beside a shaded nook and nodded regally to one of the security guards on duty. He offered her a respectful salute. "Greetings, Eldest One." T'Para shifted the baby to rest comfortably on one arm and returned the gesture.

"Greetings to you in return, young man," T'Para told him with dignified courtesy. "When Ganlas next contacts your team, inform him that I wish to consult with him."

"I shall do so, Eldest One," the security operative assured her. He glanced curiously at the wiggling bundle on her arm. "This is the Tucker child? I have never seen it so closely before."

"She," T'Para put a slight but unmistakable emphasis on the pronoun, "and I are enjoying the fresh air and sunlight while her parents meditate. Her name is T'Lissa, daughter of T'Pol."

"Certainly, Eldest One," the younger man said, abashed. "I meant no offense."

"Of course not," T'Para told him. "And no offense was taken. But she is a full member of my clan."

"Indeed?" The man's eyebrows shot upward and tried to creep into his hairline. "With all privileges? You are most generous, Eldest One. Many families would not have offered the Rite of Inclusion to one who was not born of the womb."

"She carries the blood of the clan, that is all that matters," T'Para snapped. "The mechanism by which she was conceived and gestated is merely that, mechanics. Even the Humans, whom so many profess to disdain, are enlightened enough to realize such an obvious truth. Her father's family has accepted her as one of their own. And his people have granted her Earth citizenship without question. How can we, who claim enlightenment based on the teachings of Surak, fail to do as much?"

The guard looked thoughtful. "I am chagrined to acknowledge that I have never bothered to consider the matter before. You have given me much to think about at my own meditation session, Eldest One."

"It is always agreeable to provoke thought in a young mind," T'Para told him, and walked on. She continued silently to herself, "_Since it is unlikely to the point of incredible that they will initiate thought independently."_ She snorted faintly and looked down to meet T'Lissa's curious stare.

"What thoughts are sparking in your tiny mind, Daughter of my Clan?" T'Para crooned softly. The baby gurgled happily and reached up to pat at her face. The child's innocent joy washed through T'Para's empathic sense at the contact. For a brief time, the worries and responsibility of being Eldest Mother faded and she could revel in being merely a great-great-grandmother again.

She considered progress thus far. Trip was surprising her, pleasantly so. T'Para had long suspected that the broadly disseminated descriptions of Human behavior put out by the High Command were largely propaganda. After coming to know Trip she realized that they were not largely, but entirely propaganda. Instead of a barely civilized barbarian, incapable of the most minimal level of emotional control, T'Para was finding T'Pol's bond mate quite a promising young man.

Of course he lacked discipline. This was only to be expected, given Earth's history and culture. But for a people who were still in the initial stages of species unification, Trip displayed a remarkable grasp of the IDIC principle. His tolerance for Vulcan idiosyncrasies, and his willingness to adapt to his wife's culture were most agreeable.

His greatest weakness was the innate Human need to purge emotions. The meditation techniques she could teach him would help defer this requirement temporarily, but only temporarily. Meanwhile, T'Pol was struggling with her training. The neural damage that she had sustained was making it extremely difficult for her to sustain the necessary concentration for more than a few minutes at a time. The combination did not bode well. T'Para brooded uneasily, taking care to maintain a barrier between her disquiet and the child's awareness.

Removing a child from the custody of her blood parents was such a devastating action that it was almost never undertaken. T'Para herself had never been forced to such an extremity. Her predecessor, Vela, had done it only once during the course of her long reign. The mother of the child in question had been killed in battle against the Orions and the father, driven mad with grief and the backlash from the sudden severing of the mating bond, was completely incapable of caring for himself or his children. Even so, Vela had never truly felt at peace with her decision. Knowing the logical necessity for it had not relieved her of the pain she felt, recalling the crying of the children when they were taken from their father.

T'Para looked down at T'Lissa and tenderly stroked her ear tip. The baby gurgled blissfully and kick stretched, craning her neck backward to catch a better view of a particularly fascinating example of imported Terran cactus. No, she would exhaust every possible option before depriving this child of her birthright. Besides, with her mixed heritage it was going to require a concerted effort from both families to get this one raised properly, even as it was. T'Para considered the likelihood that T'Lissa would inherit her father's need to periodically purge her emotions. If she inherited her mother's Vulcan intensity, and her father's emotional openness, then she was indeed going to need careful handling.

Perhaps Trip's culture might offer some assistance? T'Para decided to assign Ganlas the task of researching the matter. Humans could not have built a space faring civilization without addressing the issue of channeling aggression into non-destructive paths. She would examine the methods they used. Perhaps some of them could be adapted to fit this situation.

T'Para reached the end of the path and stopped at the door leading to her meditation garden. "Shall we go inside and summon your father to his meal, little one?" she asked T'Lissa. At the words, "your father," T'Lissa became a wriggling dynamo of excitement and one corner of T'Para's mouth twitched faintly. "Very well. Let us proceed." She tapped the door and reached for the latch.

-&-

Admiral Gardner sat at a corner table in the 602 club and sipped his cold beer. A long day again, and it looked like a long night ahead. Why was it the older he got, the less chances he got to relax? Blast it, a man needed some down time once in a while. Even admirals got tired sometimes. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. No such luck tonight though. He just hoped the man he was supposed to meet was prompt. He had skipped lunch and was already late for supper as it was.

The beer was half gone when a nondescript figure settled beside him at the table so quietly that Gardner almost didn't notice it himself for a moment. "Good evening, Admiral. Always a pleasure."

"Mr. Harris," Gardner replied wryly, "I am duly impressed. I was expecting one of your underlings. To what do I owe this honor?"

"The honor is mine, Admiral. Always," Harris insisted. "And the reason is that I need you here to mediate, so to speak. Or more accurately, to provide reassurance to our guest. In fact, I believe I see him heading this way."

Gardner glanced to his left and noted a figure entering in a long coat with the hood pulled up, still dripping rain from the nasty evening weather. The person scanned the room quickly, then headed for their table without bothering to remove the rain gear. Harris stood up and politely offered the newcomer his chair, which sat against the wall in the dimmest corner of the room. The visitor sat down and pulled back the hood, revealing the features of Ambassador Soval. Gardner felt his hand tighten on the beer glass, but he kept his face immobile.

Harris reached inside his jacket and made some kind of adjustment, then seemed to relax slightly. "We can speak freely for a brief time gentlemen," he said softly. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, Ambassador."

"Your message stressed the urgency of the matter, and mentioned the potential for serious inter-species strife," Soval responded flatly. "Under the circumstances there was no logical alternative."

"I regret to say that the message was quite accurate," Harris told him. "I apologize, Admiral, for not briefing you in advance on this matter. The information has just come in and I thought it best to bring it to the attention of proper authority immediately."

"What is it then?" Gardner demanded. He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the table.

Harris folded his hands in front of him. "It has to do with Commander Tucker and Lady T'Pol, and their child. It seems that Lady T'Pol's extended clan has important business ties to certain highly placed members of the Vulcan government." Harris shot Gardner a warning look. "I presume that you were aware of this, Ambassador."

"I was," Soval said with dignity. "It is commonplace among my people. Our customs and standards are quite strict in regard to the ethical requirements involved in such arrangements."

"At least in theory." Harris said, looking Soval in the eye. The Vulcan merely tilted his head slightly and returned his gaze.

"Do you mean to imply something Mr. Harris?" Soval asked him, sounding almost bored.

"For myself, I am in no position to imply anything," Harris said. He went on carefully, watching Soval while giving Gardner occasional significant looks, "However it seems Commander Tucker was in a somewhat different position. I have received reports that Tucker has filed a formal accusation involving his wife's prior marriage. Specifically he alleges that she was coerced into the marriage by the threat of reprisals against her mother." He sat back and waited.

Soval sat and blinked for a few minutes, absorbing the information. "Indeed. This is disquieting in the extreme."

Gardner gritted his teeth. "Do you allow this sort of thing, Ambassador?"

"No, Admiral, we do not," Soval responded. "If these allegations are proven true they would represent a very serious ethical violation. However, as distasteful as this information may be I fail to see how it can qualify as an emergency."

"There is more," Harris took a sip of his water. He looked at Gardner. "Yesterday we intercepted a Vulcan coming in on a Tellarite freighter under false papers. When we pulled him in for questioning it turned out he was a known smuggler. Except he wasn't smuggling contraband this time, he was carrying information."

"Go on," Gardner growled.

"Lady T'Pol's ex-husband is named Koss," Harris explained. "Koss has an uncle named V'Rald, who is a sub-Minister with the Vulcan Science Directorate. The smuggler we picked up, Linyarn, told us that V'Rald had hired him to come to Earth and contact Terra Prime. He was carrying information on how to bypass the security arrangements around the Tucker home. He was also carrying the information that T'Lissa Tucker is really Elizabeth Tucker, and that the cloned baby never died."

Gardner consciously loosened his grip from the beer glass. No sense in breaking it and cutting his hand. He leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing slowly and carefully until his reaction was under control. When he opened his eyes Soval and Harris were eyeballing each other like two fencers facing each other at sword's point.

"What happened to Linyarn?" Soval asked mildly.

"I regret to report," Harris did not sound the least bit regretful, "that he was carrying a suicide capsule in a hollowed out tooth. We did not expect that tactic from a Vulcan. I am embarrassed to admit that he caught us by surprise."

Privately, Admiral Gardner considered the odds of a prisoner catching Harris by surprise to be about equal to the odds of Mt. McKinley erupting. But all he said was, "Don't blame yourself. You and your men did well to intercept him before he could complete his mission. That's what counts."

"The problem, Admiral," Harris offered, "is that we have no way of knowing when or if sub-Minister V'Rald will send another messenger. Since he is a high level government official," Harris shot Soval a look, "he could easily use an official channel that we could not interdict."

"I have every confidence that Ambassador Soval is gong to make sure that doesn't happen. Aren't you, Ambassador?" Gardner said heartily. "I'm _quite_ certain that neither of our governments wants this to become public knowledge."

"I concur," Soval agreed dryly. "I will notify Chief Minister T'Pau immediately of the information presented in this meeting. I am certain that she will take the necessary steps to prevent a recurrence."

"Superb. All taken care of," Gardner said cheerfully. "Gentlemen, let us adjourn to our respective dinner tables, and maybe even manage to get a few hours sleep. If that's not too much to ask of fate."

The three of them wrapped up and headed out. Soval was met at the door by his escort, who led him to the embassy limo. Gardner made a head motion to Harris and the two men started walking down the rain swept sidewalk. The late hour and miserable weather gave them some precious privacy.

"What's the status now on neutralizing Terra Prime?" Gardner asked _sotto voce_.

"At the moment," Harris told him, "the rank and file are busy keeping their heads down while the big dogs rip each other to pieces. We are staying back and letting them self-destruct as much as they care to before we step back in. No sense getting our hands dirty when it's not necessary."

"Never interfere with an enemy who is in the process of defeating himself," Gardner nodded. "Do you have someone on Vulcan watching the Tuckers?"

"Of course, Admiral," Harris was offended that he would need to ask. Gardner chuckled.

"Sorry. It's been a long day." The Admiral stretched. "We need those warp six plans Mr. Harris. I really don't like the way the Klingons are stretching out in this direction, and the Romulans are starting to make me very nervous indeed. We need those plans, and we do NOT need any petty Vulcan bureaucrat throwing a monkey wrench into our way of getting them."

"Understood, Sir," Harris told him.

"Good enough. Good night Mr. Harris."

"Good night, Admiral."

As the two men parted ways, neither of them noticed a slightly parted pair of curtains in a third floor window above them.

-&-

The second evening meal passed as quietly as the first. But this time, it was due to absolute exhaustion. T'Para quietly made sure that food and drink were prepared and conveniently placed, then took the baby into another room for her umpteenth changing of the day.

Trip looked at his wife in concern. "Hun, your eyes look like they are sinking into a snowbank. As soon as you get done eating I think you better lay down and get some rest."

His concern surged across the bond and for once T'Pol didn't even try to modulate the effect. She soaked up the healing warmth of his affection and let it soothe her abraded nerves like a medicinal balm. "I admit that I am somewhat fatigued. But I will be all right for now. How are you feeling, Trip? You have never spent an entire day in meditation before."

"I didn't spend one today either," he admitted. "I couldn't do it. No way. I had to take periodic breaks and walk around. Do some stretching exercises. Just look at things. But when I wasn't meditating I was doing a lot of thinking, which helped too." He brushed his fingers across her cheek. "What has T'Para had you doing that's wringing you out like this?"

T'Pol explained, "She is teaching me how to understand and control the flow of emotions across our bond. We have talked about the feedback loop that sometimes happens between us." He nodded at her. "What she is doing is trying to teach me how to slow down the flow of my own emotions, to prevent me from amplifying yours. It was my anger at the two men who interrupted us in the coffee shop that pushed your rage past the point of self-control. But I was also feeling your anger at the time, which helped provoke me. Do you understand what I am trying to say?"

Trip nodded. "I think I get it. I was pissed, which leaked across the bond and rubbed you raw. Then those two walked up and made you even more irritated, which fed back to me through the loop and added just enough to what I was already feeling to make me snap."

"Yes. Exactly," T'Pol nodded emphatically. "So what T'Para is teaching me is the discipline necessary to stop myself from reacting to your emotional... leakage... when it comes across the bond. She is showing me how to stop the feedback loop from cycling, by preventing my portion of it from activating."

"Okay," Trip said hopefully, "makes sense. How is it coming?"

"Slowly and painfully," T'Pol admitted, rubbing her forehead. "Today was only the very beginning. I cannot expect to master this without extensive practice of course. But I will master it, Trip. I promise you. I will master it, for both of us, and for T'Lissa."

"And I promise I will keep staring at that fountain until my butt wears a trench in T'Para's stone bench if I have to," Trip told her. "Whatever it takes to learn how to keep my temper under control."

"Ashayam," T'Pol whispered sadly, "it is not your temper that is the problem. I keep telling you this, but you refuse to believe me. The meditation is good and useful, yes. It will help you deal with my emotional instability. It will give you tools and defenses to protect you from me. But you are not the problem, husband. I am." She looked down at her salad.

"We're a team, Lady," Trip pressed her face between his palms. "WE are the problem. Therefore, WE will fix this together. As a team. Got it?" She managed a faint smile.

"Yes, husband." Trip grinned back at her.

"That's what I like to hear. A nice, dutiful wife. When it suits her purposes anyway," he grabbed his fork. "Let's eat. I'm starving."

She caressed him briefly with her eyes and joined him in feeding herself. Once they got started, T'Pol realized that she was just as hungry as her husband. They didn't get much more talking done before T'Para returned with the baby plus bottle. She seated herself without speaking and watched the two younger adults with approval as they shoveled it in. After their plates were seriously denuded T'Para ventured, "I am told, Trip, that your people often converse during meals. Is this true?"

"Sure," he replied, swallowing a mouthful of something orange and crunchy, "we chat over dinner all the time. Feel free to talk about anything you want."

T'Para inclined her head. "I was considering this situation earlier, and it came to me that we have not explored your cultural traditions regarding the management of negative emotions. Perhaps Human history can provide some insight that would benefit both of you."

Trip stopped eating and sat back with a sigh. He absently scratched at the surface of his plate with a forlorn fork, making a scritching sound until T'Pol reached over and forcibly stopped him. "We have a lot of historical options for dealing with them," he finally said, "but they almost all involve displacement. Like, instead of killing your enemy go out and smash something inanimate. Other people do what I do at home, exercise. Or set up an athletic event and hammer each other with non-lethal weapons."

"Are there no options available for re-routing the energy internally into more constructive channels?" T'Para inquired.

Trip dragged his fingernails through his hair. "'He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city,'" he quoted. "The principle has been stated over and over, sure. But putting it into practice is not so easy for us. A lot of people advocate what you've got me doing, meditation and/or prayer. It does help. But ultimately we come back to the bottom line."

He looked at her helplessly. "Once the fight or flight mechanism kicks in, and the adrenaline plus all the other chemicals get released into our bloodstream, we have to work them out somehow. Otherwise the stress turns inside and our bodies start to devour themselves. I mean literally. Our digestive system goes berserk. Our circulatory system clogs up, and our heart starts to misfire and cramp. Sometimes our arteries and veins bust wide open from the strain. Our nervous system short circuits and we go crazy. We get mood swings, we can't sleep, our judgment goes haywire, we get suicidal... "

T'Para held up her hand. "Enough, Trip. I understand. You are telling me that the best you can possibly achieve is a temporary deferment. Ultimately, your emotions must be purged no matter what." He nodded, looking defeated.

"For T'Pol's part," T'Para continued, "her condition will likely make it impossible for her to regulate the emotional balance of the bond for more than brief intervals of time, even after extended practice. Therefore the two of you will need to develop working procedures to deal with the reality of this situation."

"What do you mean, Eldest Mother?" T'Pol asked her, looking less than eager.

"How did you think I came to gain the skills in empathic modulation that I am teaching you, Daughter?" T'Para asked her calmly, raising T'Lissa to her shoulder for a brisk burping.

"I..." T'Pol stopped with her mouth open for an instant. She exchanged a look with Trip, who shrugged. "I confess that I had not paused to consider the matter, Eldest Mother."

T'Para nodded. "I am unsurprised. You have been occupied with your own concerns." She brought T'Lissa down from her shoulder and wiped the upchuck with the effortless efficiency of someone who had done it more times than she could remember. Then she stuck the bottle back in the kid's face and continued without changing expression, "My adun perished from Bendii syndrome twenty-three years ago. During his final years it was necessary for me to learn the techniques of empathic modulation, to assist him in maintaining minimal daily functionality."

T'Pol's face drained of color. Trip felt a cold hammer hit him in the chest. His breath locked up and his vision darkened. Her tidal wave of emotion was devastating, unlike anything he had ever felt from her before. Gasping hard for air, Trip forced out frantically, "What is it?"

From a distance he heard T'Para sharply order, "T'Pol, assume the _t'klaI_ inversion and apply the discipline immediately. You are inflicting damage on your adun. Control yourself." Trip immediately felt relief from the pressure on his chest. Warmth returned to his lungs and feeling tingled back into his hands and feet. When his eyes finally cleared he discovered both of the women watching him anxiously. Even T'Para had a barely detectable trace of concern in her eyes, which promptly got snuffed as soon as he met her gaze of course.

"I'm ok now. Sorry," Trip told them, embarrassed. "So, what is this... whatever you said it was?" He watched T'Pol with concern as she swallowed.

"Bendii Syndrome. It is a disease that afflicts some of us near the end of our lives, Trip," she told him. "It attacks the brain, Trip. It destroys our ability to control our emotions." She looked up, desolate. "Like trellium."

Trip hissed between his teeth and slid out of his chair. He circled the table and knelt beside her, taking her hand. "It's ok, Hun. It's all right to be upset. You have a right to feel things."

"Many Vulcans consider Bendii Syndrome a shameful disease," T'Para told him flatly. "When Seren was diagnosed with it, many members of his own family chose to withdraw from him. His own brother, V'Naar, chose to break all contact rather than be associated with one who was afflicted with Bendii."

Trip stared at her in shocked disbelief. "No." He shook his head numbly. "You can't mean it."

"She means it, Trip," T'Pol said sadly. "It is not uncommon here."

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!" Trip boiled to his feet. "And don't try to use that discipline to calm me down through the bond this time, Woman," he demanded with his face flushed. "This is abominable! They were gonna to throw you to the wolves and let you die untreated from that damn Pa'anar, and now this! And Vulcans have had the FUCKIN' GALL to accuse US of being uncivilized for a hundred years! We haven't had any untreated disease on Earth in generations. And even back when we did, no decent Human family would ever throw away one of their own just because they got sick!"

T'Lissa raised her head off T'Para's shoulder and looked around curiously. She heard her father's voice raised and wondered what the commotion was all about. T'Para noted that the child was merely curious, and filed the information away for later cogitation.

"I am not Human, Trip," his wife told him simply. "You have always known this."

He stopped and stood looking down at her, breathing hard and at a loss for more words. He turned his head and started using the deep breathing exercises she had taught him. In a moment he was calm again. T'Para sat quietly observing, saying nothing.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "It's not my place to judge. And I shouldn't have blamed the two of you anyway." Trip sat back down and put his forehead in his palms. "That's one of the reasons you were afraid to tell me about the trellium, wasn't it? Because it reminded you of this Bendii thing."

"Yes," T'Pol's voice was very small. "I am sorry. I should never have doubted your loyalty." Trip dropped his hands and looked at her with exasperated love.

"You said that already. That's out of the way, we took care of it. Ok?" He held her eyes until she nodded. Trip turned back to T'Para, "You were saying, Eldest Mother, that you had some ideas that we could use?"

"Nothing elaborate or particularly sophisticated, Trip," T'Para told him. She looked at them both. "The simplest way to avoid emotional disturbance in the bond is to remove the source. I have observed that for the two of you, the primary source of your difficulty seems to be a truly incomparable lack of ability to communicate. As you will someday be called upon to teach this little one to speak, it seems logical that you should first learn the skill yourselves."

"_Ouch,"_ Trip thought, "_Tact is not in this lady's vocabulary."_

"I admit that we haven't been real clear with each other sometimes," Trip acknowledged. T'Para gave him a look that sent him sliding down in his chair like a schoolboy caught cheating on an exam.

"As I told you before, Trip, a substantial portion of the anger between the two of you is the result of suppressed frustration over past incidents. Therefore I recommend that you spend the time during your joint morning sessions talking. Specifically, I want you to go back to the beginning of your association, starting at your first meeting, and discuss the entirety of your time together."

They blinked in unison. "Uh, Eldest Mother?" Trip said timidly, "that's four years. You want us to re-hash the whole four years?"

"Yes. I believe that is what I just finished saying Trip," T'Para snapped impatiently. "Are you quite certain that Vulcan atmosphere is thick enough to permit your hearing to function adequately? If not, there should be supplemental assistance available which would allow you to follow the course of normal conversations."

"Unghk," Trip strangled and coughed. He looked at T'Pol, who picked up the ball and tried to run with it.

"I believe that Trip was expressing surprise and bewilderment, Eldest Mother. Re-examining the entire four years of our relationship, which included a large number of high intensity events, would require a very significant investment in time," she explained.

T'Para looked at T'Pol, then at Trip. She asked, "Trip, has your wife explained the structure of Vulcan family law to you?"

Trip's eyebrows drew together. He answered slowly, "In general terms, yes. She told me that family matters are handled within the clan, and that the government almost never interferes with an internal clan matter."

"Further," T'Para told him, "even if the government chose to attempt to interfere, there is a real limit to its authority to do so. Under Vulcan law I, as Eldest Mother, hold final legal authority over several aspects of family law. Such as custody for example, which is how I was able to arrange the stratagem of T'Lissa's name change and false adoption."

T'Pol tensed and straightened in her chair. "You would not do this!"

"Not by choice, Daughter. Never by choice," T'Para told her sincerely. "But it is my considered judgment that the two of you, in your current condition, are not fit parents for a small child. Neither of you are capable of controlling yourselves sufficiently to absolutely guarantee her physical safety. That alone is enough to warrant extreme measures. But even if there were no physical danger, what kind of environment could you provide for her upbringing, surrounding her with out of control rage every day?"

Trip had his eyes closed, breathing in meditation mode. His fingers were digging deeply into his thighs. He had clamped down on the bond and was trying to hold back from allowing any trace of his emotion to leak through. When he felt he could speak in a somewhat normal voice he asked, "Why do you bring this up now? We have been on Vulcan for three months."

"The situation has been escalating for three months," T'Pala said mercilessly. "The longer you live together under the same roof, the longer you sleep together in the same bed, eat at the same table, mate at will, touch daily, the more tightly and completely you will bond. Therefore the more deeply and intensely you will share emotions. This difficulty you are having with control will only become more powerful and more difficult to manage over time. You must learn to cope with it, and cope with it now, Trip. I cannot and will not allow the two of you to take this child away from here until I am convinced that she will be safe with you. Do you understand me, young man?"

T'Para could not help feeling a flicker of sadness at the murderous glare Trip shot her. Of course no trace of it reached her face. T'Pol, on the other hand, simply looked distressed. "I understand, Eldest Mother," she said. "Your position is logical. T'Lissa's welfare must always come first for all of us, of course. Neither of us would ever dispute that."

"I dispute that you, or anyone except us, have any right to say what is best for our daughter!" Trip snarled. T'Pol reached over and grasped his wrist firmly.

"Trip," She said sharply. Her tone caught him totally by surprise. He whipped his head around to stare at his wife. "T'Para is right. Remember what happened in the coffee shop. What might have happened if T'Lissa had been there?" He froze.

"We can do this for our daughter, Ashayam," she told him softly. "She trusts us to give her a safe home. We must do this for her."

Trip slowly caved in on himself before their eyes. His shoulders hunched forward and he put his head down on his folded arms. Several minutes passed before he straightened up with his teeth locked. "All right. Let's do this then."

"You will need to pace yourselves," T'Para told them. "As you pointed out, it will take a considerable amount of time. For today you have both expended enough effort on this matter. I recommend, Daughter, that you take Trip into the city and purchase some additional clothing for both of you. Perhaps also toiletries and anything else you might require. T'Lissa's supplies will be taken care of by the Security Directorate, but neither of you have anything with you aside from the clothing you were wearing when you came here."

Trip snorted. "She's right," he grudgingly admitted. "The dispenser in that bathroom works fine, but Vulcan underwear just isn't the same. I can make do but it pinches in some awkward spots. Plus this sand suit is a bit warm for house wear."

"Agreed," T'Pol said tiredly. "Some time alone together would be pleasant as well." Trip smiled tiredly at her and reached for her hand.

-&-

Soval settled back against the seat in his personal car and told the driver, "Our business is complete. Return to the embassy." The Vulcan made vehicle rose smoothly and silently into motion, heading for the the San Francisco air traffic launch point without any sense of detectable motion to the occupants.

J'Nal asked him, "Did everything go well, Ambassador?" She scrupulously refrained from asking for any details about the meeting, but he could easily hear the curiosity in her tone.

"Not well, no. I would not use that term to describe it," Soval sighed. His eyes roamed over the occupants of the car. J'Nal, the driver who also doubled as a bodyguard, and his personal secretary, S'lask. All held top level clearance. "I met with Admiral Gardner and another highly placed operative in the Human government." J'Nal's brows leaped at this roundabout way of describing things.

"Another highly placed operative?" Soval gave her a direct look.

"Yes." Nothing more was said. In a few breaths he went on, "You will recall my earlier speculation that the message we received concerning Linyarn was actually sent incognito by Human agents. This has now been called into question, as the purpose of the meeting was to inform me of that very situation. Further, it seems that the Humans possess complete background information concerning Commander Tucker's allegations of extortion against Clan Tren'nik'lok'hlt'li'jan'mrifloj'hed'fr'dac."

S'Lask winced. "This is disagreeable in the extreme."

"More disagreeable than you know," Soval said tiredly. "Mr. Harris is... not a representative of any typical branch of the Human government."

"What branch does he represent then?" J'Nal asked.

"I have never been able to determine that," Soval said flatly. Silence fell. "However, there seems to be very few limits to his access to information or resources. Certainly the highest echelons of both Starfleet and civilian authority are familiar with him, although none of the Humans that I have observed appear to be fully comfortable in his presence."

"I see," J'Nal said flatly. "He represents the Human equivalent of the Andorian Dark Guard."

"I believe that to be the most logical conclusion," Soval agreed.

Despite his best efforts, S'lask's face still showed distress. "I did not realize that Humans still engaged in politically sanctioned assassination. I had hoped that they were beyond such barbarity."

Soval glanced at the young man in surprise. Surely he had not reached Level 5 classification in the Diplomatic Service without gaining more understanding of realpolitik than this? The ambassador confined himself to tactfully murmuring, "The government of any warrior race is capable of resorting to extreme measures when it believes that the ultimate needs of its people require it."

"Why would a representative of... the Human Dark Guard for lack of a better name, be interested in the allegations made by Commander Tucker?" J'Nal wanted to know. "This is hardly a matter affecting their species security, or even planetary security."

"There are aspects of this situation that I am not at liberty to reveal," Soval told them unhappily. "Suffice for your purposes that he is involved, and that Starfleet both knows and approves of his involvement. When we return to Cairo I will need to arrange for emergency transport to Vulcan. I must discuss this matter with the High Council directly. Some things cannot be entrusted to couriers."

J'Nal straightened and said crisply, "Of course, Ambassador. Do you have a time estimate for the length of your trip and your return?"

"If a fast ship is available, travel time will be no more than six days round trip," Soval considered aloud, "The meeting itself should require no more than one day. Otherwise it will be up to the Council, and any supplemental instructions they may have for me."

"Understood," J'Nal told him. "S'Lask and I will adjust your schedule accordingly." The secretary nodded agreement.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Father to the Man**

by Blackn'blue (aka Bluenblack)

**Warning:** Violence, Adult Language, Adult Situations, Rampant Sexism, Politically Incorrect Social Commentary, Uncouth Fashion Sense, Scary Old Ladies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

**Description: **This is the third story in my series that began with For Want of A Nail and continued with In the Cold of the Night. I suggest reading those before tackling this one. Otherwise many of the references won't make any sense. This story was originally posted to the HoT website in eight parts on November 2006, December 2006 and February 2007. As I explained in my first posting, the whole series started as a simple stand-alone story that got completely out of hand.

**Note:** Vulcan words used in this story were either stolen wholesale from the Vulcan Language Dictionary at /vld/, the online Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

* * *

Chapter 8: Conclusion

Alice finished her morning routine in a typical Monday morning rush. After gulping down a quick cup of coffee, pleading with the toast to stay where it belonged, she grabbed her backpack and started for the door of her apartment. For once she nursed fond hope of being a few minutes early for her first class. She might even be able to corner Professor Harding long enough to get some kind of coherent explanation for that stupid...

She stopped and slapped her forehead. Thinking of projects, she almost forgot the extra credit assignment. With her grades tanking the way they were, she couldn't afford to waste any chances she got to brown nose a little. Alice walked over to the window and looked down at the terrarium. The readouts seemed to be within tolerances, and she sighed in relief. The Andorian moss was carefully sealed away from Earth atmosphere. For its own protection, not hers, Professor Harding had explained. The purpose of the experiment was to evaluate the reaction of Andorian moss to prolonged exposure to Earth's solar radiation.

Alice triggered the proper sequence and a data chip popped out. She slipped it into her belt pouch and dropped in a new one from the supply Harding gave her. Then she grabbed her pack again. _Now_ she better get moving.

Alice got lucky, she caught the early transport and made it to Harding's classroom just as he arrived. She delivered the data chip triumphantly and got an actual smile out of the old sourpuss, along with a three minute clarification on the project that she had been struggling with.

Harding spent some time shuffling and organizing his notes, meanwhile collecting all the other data chips that came trickling in, each from students who were operating experiments at random locations throughout the city. He breezed through the lecture on autopilot and left to head back to his office, looking forward to brunch with the new Dean of Exobiology. He dropped his class notes and the data chips on his desk and headed out for his appointment without taking time to lock his door. Why bother?

The bland looking man knocked briefly on Harding's office door a few minutes later. Hearing no reply, he glanced around and quietly entered. The data chips went quickly, one at a time, into a reader before being carefully replaced in their former position. Then he dropped the reader into his pocket and exited.

Late that evening, Lethos activated the door code and permitted Thyren to enter. The sub-basement stronghold of the Andorian embassy was no more comfortable than it had been the day they moved in, but it was gradually becoming much more elaborately equipped. Thyren, who had not actually set foot inside headquarters for over two weeks, was astonished and delighted to see a complete subspace transceiver console, an extensive network of computer data banks, and an entire wall covered by state of the art weapons and surveillance equipment.

"Impressive," he grinned. "Most impressive indeed. When will we get padded chairs?"

"When Vulcan freezes over, most likely," Lethos muttered good-naturedly. "Grab one of these slabs and sit, I have something to show you."

Thyren obediently scooted a chair over beside Lethos and seated himself in a position to view the monitor that his companion was activating. Lethos was going on, "Ordinarily, as you well know, those passive monitors that we spent so much time arranging are nothing but a waste of time and energy."

Thyren chuckled, "I remember how incensed you were when we were ordered to enact that program. If the Ambassador had reported your language to the High Command, we would both have been shot for sedition."

"I hereby acknowledge myself to have been proven wrong," Lethos said ruefully, causing Thyren to lean forward in sudden interest. The picture cleared instantly. A night scene, shown from a height above the street. Rainy, as it usually was in this city at this time of year. Thyren grimaced. Great Mother Andor, how he hated rain.

The street was empty until two figures entered the field of view. Thyren felt a prickling at the base of his antennae. Then both appendages stiffened and pointed straight at the screen. The screen showed Starfleet Admiral Gardner and Dark Operative Harris.

"Sound!" he barked urgently. "Let me hear what they were saying!" Thyren scooted forward as close as he could get, straining eagerly. Lethos put a hand on his arm.

"Patience. It will be a few seconds until they come into range. Just listen carefully."

The first thing to be heard was the sound of wet footsteps, mixed with low voiced muttering. Finally a few words started to become intelligible.

..."have someone on Vulcan watching the Tuckers?"

"_Of course, Admiral" _

"_Sorry. It's been a long day." _

(pause)

"_We need those warp six plans Mr. Harris. I really don't like the way the Klingons are stretching out in this direction, and the Romulans are starting to make me very nervous indeed. We need those plans, and we do NOT need any petty Vulcan bureaucrat throwing a monkey wrench into our way of getting them." _

"_Understood, Sir." _

"_Good enough. Good night Mr. Harris." _

"_Good night, Admiral." _

"There's more," Lethos told him. Thyren's eyes gleamed as he waited. "The reason they were walking? They had just left an informal, unscheduled meeting with the Vulcan ambassador at the 602 club. It was very brief and very, very private. As soon as Soval got back to Cairo he called for transport back to Vulcan. He left this morning on a D'Kyr class warship at warp 7."

Thyren's smile broadened into a face splitting grin. "Oh this is tasty. This is absolutely delicious. The High Command is going to savor this. How did the ambassador take it?"

Lethos shook his head. "Haven't told him yet. Wanted to get your input first."

"We don't have enough information," Thyren leaned back and absently tugged on one of his antennae. His mother had spent years trying to break him of that habit. "First of all, who is the Vulcan bureaucrat that is preventing the Humans from obtaining plans for a warp six engine? Soval himself? Or is it another bureaucrat and Soval has gone home to deal with him?"

"How could the Vulcans stop it?" Lethos wondered. "According to Intelligence, the Humans already have an engine that is capable of exceeding warp five with minor modifications. The jump to warp six should be nothing extreme for them."

"Assuming the Vulcans don't interfere," Thyren said. "Perhaps that is it. From everything I have heard, the Humans fumed for decades over how the Vulcans deliberately held them back. Humans were prevented from expanding into space because the Vulcans were not ready to deal with them." The two traded glances.

"So much for their vaunted policy of non-interference," Lethos said ironically.

Thyren threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Have you ever," he had to stop and gasp for breath. "Have you ever," he started again, "seen them actually live up to that basket of lies yet?"

Lethos pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Actually... no. I cannot say that I have."

"Of course not," Thyren chuckled. "Its only purpose is to use as an excuse to attack any other race who might trespass on one of their vassal species. But here we have an opportunity to exploit, if the High Command is willing to seize it."

"It is too bad that we did not have an operative in place last night," Lethos mourned. "We could have had someone follow Harris and perhaps gained significantly more data."

Thyren winced. "They would have had my sympathy and best wishes trying." He shuddered. "When I was assigned to Earth, one of my first actions was to locate and identify my counterpart among the Humans. Remember?"

"Of course," Lethos replied. "Standard procedure."

"I learned quickly that trying to shadow Harris, especially during one of this planet's pitch black nights, is an exercise in misery and frustration," Thyren growled. "Even if we had someone there last night, they would have been lucky if Harris didn't lose them within six blocks. And that assumes that he didn't detect that he was being followed. The man uses evasive techniques by sheer reflex."

Lethos stood up. "I think it is about time we took this to the Ambassador. The next step will be up to more highly placed heads than ours."

-&-

The fire alarm energized the entire crew within seconds of the bell going off. Fire on a starship was about on par with alien torpedo bombardment for emergency response priority.

When the second fire alarm went off, the bustle of activity became a frenzied buzz. Four minutes later, by the time the eighth and ninth alarm went off, Lieutenant Commander Reed sounded tactical alert and glanced over at the captain's chair.

"Looks like this is it, Sir," he said calmly.

"Yep," Archer responded tersely. He gave his second in command a straight look. "I want them alive, Malcolm. This one is going to answer some questions. Lots of questions."

"Understood, Sir." Reed snapped a quick summons into the intercom for his relief to report to the bridge and headed for the turbolift at a trot. As the doors closed everyone on the bridge saw him checking the settings on his phase pistol. Hoshi and Travis exchanged a significant look.

"This one, Sir?" Travis asked.

Archer gave him a look. "We have been expecting this, Travis. Malcolm has his teams in place and waiting. Everything is under control." A slow smile broke over the helmsman's face and he nodded happily.

"Sir," Hoshi announced, "I am getting reports of small fires on decks C and D plus two in main Engineering." She paused a moment, listening to her ear piece. "The two in Engineering are already out. The others are reported contained."

"_Engineering to Bridge."_ Lieutenant Commander Hess sounded harassed.

"Go ahead, Commander," the captain replied.

"_Captain, we found two signal flares rigged with remote activators. Looks like someone had a transmitter that let them trigger the flares simultaneously from wherever they happened to be on the ship."_

"Figures," Archer sighed. "No doubt the other fires started the same way. Did they do any serious damage?"

"_No, Sir,"_ she replied. "_Nothing but some scorched paint in a couple of Jeffries tubes down here. Those flares are pretty small after all. I don't expect any real problems from them."_

"Good enough," Archer told her. "Keep me posted. Bridge out."

-&-

Agent Keval looked at Selera when the entrance buzzer to the cargo bay sounded. She gestured acknowledgment and moved into flanking position, ready to cover him. Commander Reed's warning had really been superfluous, since fire alarms and the tactical alert siren were in the process of deafening them both at the time.

Once Agent Selera was in position, Keval activated the cargo bay entrance. The door slid aside to reveal the human security officer that was currently on duty. She stepped inside quickly.

"I apologize deeply for disturbing you both," she told them sincerely. "But regulations specify that during a tactical alert all guests aboard are to be accompanied in person by a security officer at all times."

The two Vulcans traded a quick look. This had not been part of Reed's briefing. It seemed illogical that he would have neglected such an obvious point. But then again, Humans often overlooked the obvious. Her explanation was at least plausible. They would have to comply for the present.

"Very well," Keval inclined his head. "Since we are to be sharing this space, introductions seem appropriate. I am Keval, and this is Lady Selera."

"I am honored to meet you both," The young Human told them. "My name is Matilda Wu."

-&-

Soval sat with his hands folded, outwardly impassive. But in this case appearances were indeed deceptive. The waiting area outside Chief Minister T'Pau's office was serenely decorated in subdued earth tones. The furniture was simple and utilitarian, without being harsh. A small fountain in one corner provided soothing background ambiance.

Unfortunately, Soval was too distracted to take advantage of the environment and use the time to catch up on his meditation. By the time T'Pau's clerical assistant finally came to summon him to his meeting, the ambassador had crept perilously close to fidgeting.

T'Pau stood respectfully when the older man entered and offered him the proper salute. The two exchanged formal greetings and went through the required rituals of seating, offering tea, etc. Finally Soval put down his cup and looked T'Pau in the eye.

"I trust that my report arrived safely, Chief Minister?" He waited carefully for her reaction, ready to take his cue from her response. When the Chief Minister of the Vulcan High Council actually allowed herself to sigh, Soval knew that he had guessed correctly. The matter was indeed critical.

"I hope that you have no other pressing engagements, Ambassador," T'Pau told him wearily. "There are some aspects of the situation, both here and on Earth, that you are not aware of. A full briefing is going to require quite some time."

Soval leaned forward. "I am at your disposal, Chief Minister. As always."

T'Pau closed her eyes in resignation. "I am sure you recall the communique I sent regarding our investigation into corruption among high level officials in the V'Las administration." It was not a question.

"Of course," Soval affirmed. "Since you mention it in the context of this meeting, logic suggests that Sub-Minister V'Rald must have been one of the subjects of the investigation."

"Correct." Despite her admirable discipline, T'Pau's relative youth sometimes betrayed her. In this case it came in the form of visible frustration. "However V'Rald has been most thorough up to this point in protecting himself. Commander Tucker's assertion is the first public evidence of wrongdoing that we have been able to obtain."

"While I understand V'Rald's distaste for facing such an accusation," Soval ventured, "the fact remains that the issue is moot. Regardless of past errors, T'Pol's prior marriage is null and void. Nothing can be proven beyond conflicting testimony from the principals. The damage lay in the accusation itself, which has already been accomplished. Why would V'Rald persist in such an illogical and unnecessary escalation of the situation as sending Linyarn to Earth?"

T'Pau shifted uncomfortably and refused to meet his eyes. "We believe V'Rald is convinced that Commander Tucker has embarked on a campaign of vengeance against Koss specifically, and his entire clan generally."

Soval was nonplussed. "That seems most unlikely. Commander Tucker is a remarkably even-tempered young man. Modern Human culture has embedded powerful sanctions to discourage the pursuit of personal revenge, and Commander Tucker in particular is known for his dedication to the cause of peace. This is, after all, the man who risked his own life and the lives of his crew to prevent a war. During the Xindi conflict he went so far as to forgo revenge against the man who designed the very weapon that killed his own sister, in order to achieve peace." Soval paused and looked in disbelief at the Chief Minister. She continued to avoid his gaze.

"Chief Minister T'Pau," Soval said in a soft, coldly flat voice, "what have you done?"

"It was not required that we initiate any action to trigger V'Rald's suspicions," T'Pau told him primly. "Commander Tucker was obliging enough to provide the primary impetus himself." She described the confrontation between Trip and Koss at T'Pol's clan gathering, with special emphasis on describing Trip's knife work. "V'Rald is old enough to remember first contact with Humans. He has never been fully reconciled with the idea of allowing them unrestricted access to space, on the grounds that they are inherently too dangerous and unstable to be trusted. Commander Tucker's behavior merely reinforced his existing prejudice."

"Such behavior is most atypical of the commander," Soval murmured in surprise. "I would never have expected it of him."

T'Pau explained delicately, "The two of them are experiencing some unforeseen side affects related to the marriage bond. This results in occasionally destabilizing Mr. Tucker's emotional control. Both Trip and T'Pol are currently spending some time at the home of her Eldest Mother, T'Para, to receive advanced training in meditation techniques which should help them with this."

"Ah," Soval straightened in chagrin, hiding his embarrassment with a lifetime's polished practice. "That certainly clarifies the matter. In a situation such as theirs, the unexpected is perhaps paradoxically the only reasonable thing to be expected."

"Indeed," T'Pau agreed. "Meanwhile, as long as V'Rald believes that Commander Tucker is actively seeking avenues to attack him, he will continue to attempt preemptive strikes. Sooner or later he will make a mistake that will expose himself, and we will be able to prove his malfeasance."

"You are deliberately using this innocent family, including a tiny infant, as bait for your trap," Soval said in horror. "And if they are killed? Will you simply put it down on your list of profit and loss and go forward with no further thought for what you have done?" His anger was starting to rumble to the surface, despite his best efforts. T'Pau took a hard grip on her nervousness. The old man could be quite intimidating at times.

"They are under constant guard by Security forces, supervised by a member of T'Pol's own clan," she defended. "We did not cause this situation, Ambassador. Nor do we intend to allow anyone to come to harm. But you are well aware of the importance of those shipyards to all of Vulcan. Permitting the corrupt and inefficient practices that presently apply to the manufacture of those ships leaves us at a severe disadvantage. Under the V'Las administration we lost influence over twenty-three systems, and sacrificed four important trading partnerships because we could not compete effectively. This state of affairs is not acceptable. _Most especially_ since we now face increased competition not only from Andorians and Tellarites, but Humans as well."

"True," Soval admitted. "Their ships are improving rapidly. I was told by T'Pol that Commander Tucker actually achieved warp 6, briefly, during Enterprise's time in the Expanse. But due to potential issues with lack of proper safety protocols, the experiment was temporarily shelved."

"You see?" T'Pau said grimly. "We cannot afford to waste any more time and energy. Although I sincerely hope that we can continue our current cordial relationship with Earth, we cannot risk the welfare of our people by permitting waste and inefficiency to permeate our systems. Notwithstanding that this also violates the very essence of Surak's teachings."

"How long do you intend to allow this state of affairs to continue?" Soval asked her. "Are the Tuckers to be kept under virtual house arrest until you manage to obtain enough evidence to convict V'Rald?"

"For the present it is not an issue," T'Pau said. "As I said, they are busy studying with T'Para. When and if it becomes an issue, we will manage the situation. But I do not anticipate that it will take much longer. We intend to leak information about Linyarn's demise to V'Rald very soon. It is almost impossible that he will not react in some manner. We are monitoring his every action and communication very closely."

"It is unfortunate that you cannot simply arrest him based on Linyarn's testimony. But of course, that would reveal the existence of the Tucker child," Soval said glumly. T'Pau inclined her head. Soval went on carefully, "While I recognize that Linyarn was a known criminal, he was still a Vulcan citizen. I am unable to accept that his death was due to suicide. Does the Council wish to take any action on this matter?"

"No." T'Pau replied. Short, flat, emotionless.

Soval looked at her. "The Council is willing to allow the Humans to summarily execute a Vulcan citizen without making any type of response at all?"

"No." This response was equally flat.

Soval's brows drew together. "Chief Minister?" He let his confused expression ask the question for him. After a brief interval T'Pau let out her second sigh of the meeting.

"The Humans were not responsible for Linyarn's death," she said. Then she added sternly, "This is all you need to know. It is not to be discussed outside this room. It is not to be revealed to anyone else. At any time. Under any circumstances. For any reason whatsoever. Is this understood?"

Something clicked in Soval's mind and suddenly everything since the night he received the anonymous message fell neatly into place. He straightened stiffly in his seat. "Of course Chief Minister. Linyarn committed suicide by means of a concealed capsule, as reported by the Human authorities."

-&-

"You're certain that she's secure?" Archer asked grimly. He turned to glance again at the figure stretched out unconscious on the bio-bed.

"Absolutely, Sir," Malcolm assured him with pained satisfaction. He paused to gingerly touch the swelling around his black eye before he continued through mashed lips, "I have two guards stationed just outside her cell at all times, and two more just outside the brig entrance. We also have continuous 24/7 remote monitoring in place." He continued with relish, "Ensign Wu isn't going anywhere, I can assure you of that."

"Good," the captain growled. He stepped cautiously over to stand beside Selera, who seemed to be holding up well despite her injuries. "I want to thank you both for your assistance in this matter, Agent Selera. I am sorry our people didn't get there sooner though."

Selera shifted her weight a touch awkwardly on the crutches and turned to face Archer. As would be expected, her face gave away nothing. "Thanks are appreciated but not required, Captain. As we have previously discussed, it was to our own advantage to help neutralize this threat."

Archer nodded at the unconscious figure in front of them. "I am sorry about Keval's injuries though. I honestly had no idea that a person could inflict that kind of damage with nothing but a short piece of chain."

"Her skills were remarkable," Selera admitted. "As soon as the sensors in our monitoring unit detected an activated phase pistol, and the dampening field came on, she almost instantly adapted to using more primitive weapons. I believe Keval may have underestimated her speed." She glanced at her comatose partner. "Fortunately, Doctor Phlox was able to staunch the internal cranial hemorrhaging in time. The broken bones and scarring will not be a serious issue once we reach Vulcan. I am sure a brief episode of cosmetic surgery can replace the lost teeth and ear. Overall I would categorize the mission a success."

"That's enough." Phlox came bustling out of the back room, making shooing motions at Archer. "Visiting hours are over, Captain. My patients need their rest."

"I am already quite rested, Doctor," Selera pointed out. "I slept a full five hours. And Keval is deep in a healing trance and will not rouse until tomorrow at the earliest."

"I never said you had to sleep," the Denobluan insisted implacably. "But you do require more rest. Your body needs its energy to repair those bones. Not to speak of those internal bruises. Now back to bed with you. And you," he addressed Reed, "report to your quarters. And if I hear one hint of a rumor about you trying to go on duty before 1200 hours tomorrow, I will have your own people drag you in here and strap you to a bed. Understand?"

"Understood, Doctor," Reed said hurriedly, throwing up his hands in surrender with a tired smile. Or as much of a smile as he could manage with what was left of his mouth. The verbal sparring was interrupted by an intercom signal.

"_Bridge to Captain Archer."_

Archer strolled over to the wall unit and keyed the button. "Archer here."

"_Captain, I have received notice to expect an incoming call from Admiral Gardner in twenty minutes."_

"I'll be right up." Archer snapped off the comm and said, "Come on, Malcolm. Let's get out of here before he breaks out those leeches." Reed shuddered and joined Archer in heading for the doorway.

After dropping Malcolm off at his cabin, the captain headed for the bridge. He settled into his favorite chair and asked with deep relief, "What's our ETA, Travis?"

"Five hours, 23 minutes, Sir," Ensign Mayweather replied. "Vulcan Space Central has already been advised of our approach and we are cleared to assume orbit on arrival."

"Beautiful," Archer settled back and let out a deep breath. Just once, things were breaking his way. The last of the Terra Prime moles was in the brig and nobody got killed doing it. They were almost to Vulcan, and a chance to visit his friends again. Along with a special treat, a chance to sneak a peek at how those warp six plans were coming along. If he knew Trip, and he did, things were probably humming along at a breakneck pace. Archer grinned in anticipation and mentally rubbed his hands together. He could already feel Enterprise's decks humming as she slid between the stars at warp 6, leaving slower vessels behind in her wake.

In fact, why not get a hint right now? "Hoshi?" He turned toward the communications officer. "What are the chances of making contact with Trip and T'Pol from this distance?"

Lieutenant Sato chewed her lip for a few seconds and pondered. "I think I can do it, Sir. If the Vulcan's will let me patch through their planetary network, I know I can. Gimme a minute or two." She started doing esoteric things to her control panel with a look of intense concentration, and then began she purring and growling like a cat in Vulcan. She paused to listen a moment, looking satisfied. "Got it, Sir," she announced triumphantly. "I have connected to the Earth embassy, and they are forwarding the call."

"Good work, Lieutenant," Archer said happily. "Let's see what our two prodigals have been up to lately. Put it on the main screen so everyone can say hello."

A moment later the main view screen cleared to reveal the face that, to Archer, resembled Methuselah's grandmother. He gaped for a moment, speechless, and thought, "_That's not T'Pol, unless she was REALLY spending a fortune on makeup when she was aboard." _

The old woman's penetrating gaze swept over the bridge in a heartbeat, and one silver eyebrow raised the tiniest trifle. "Enterprise. I presume that you seek Commander Tucker or Lady T'Pol?"

Archer cleared his throat weakly. "Erm. Yes, actually, Ma'am. My name is Captain Jonathan Archer."

"I am aware of your identity young man," the old woman told him with dry amusement. "All of Vulcan is aware of your identity. I am T'Para, Eldest Mother of T'Pol's clan. You have reached my home, where the ones you seek are visiting. I will bring them. Wait."

She disappeared from view and Archer found himself swallowing for some reason. Something about that old biddy's eyes made a Xindi Reptillian look positively cheerful. Soon enough though, everyone perked up at the sight of Trip's grinning face.

"Cap'n! Travis! Hoshi! You're early."

"We're not quite there yet, Trip," Archer informed him. "Just thought we would jump the gun and let you know to be expecting us. How are things going in the warm sunshine?" He added jokingly, "Have you and T'Pol got a prototype engine ready for us to test yet?"

Trip winced slightly. "Progress has been a little bit slow, Cap'n. Me and T'Pol had to take some leave to deal with family business. That's why we are here at T'Para's house instead of at home. But we should be back to work before too much longer."

"Anything we can help with?" Captain Archer asked with concern. Trip shook his head.

"Nah. Just family stuff." He looked uncomfortable. "We got it covered. A lot of it involves helping me get used to the way things are done on Vulcan. We have been here at T'Para's house for the last few days while she walks us through it."

"I imagine there's a lot of adjusting to do," Hoshi offered sympathetically. "It's good that T'Pol has family that is willing to help."

"Yeah." Trip forced a half smile. "After this, the Kahs-Wahn doesn't sound like it is gonna be much of a challenge."

"The what?" Travis looked confused.

Just as Trip began to reply, Hoshi's board beeped. She listened for a moment and announced, "It's the call from Admiral Gardner, Sir."

"Ready room," Archer responded, standing up. "Gotta take this one, Trip. We will see you soon. Tell T'Pol we send our best, and give the baby a tickle from all of us." Trip chuckled and the screen went dark.

Gardner's expression let half the air out of Archer's good mood before he even got settled into his chair. "Hello, Jon," the admiral said wryly. "Guess what? It's time to play diplomat again."

Archer suppressed a heartfelt moan and put on his best poker face. "Yes, Sir. What do you need me to do?"

Gardner leaned forward on his elbows toward the screen, as if trying to maintain a conspiratorial closeness. "We may have a golden opportunity opening up here Jon. But it has to be handled with kid gloves or it will surely blow up in our faces. The Andorians have been making noises about trading some technology."

Archer shot up straight in his seat, electrified. "What kind of technology?" His voice was barely under control, with an undercurrent of eagerness that brought a smile to Gardner's face.

"It seems that your friend Commander Shran made a serious impression with the Andorian High Command about our transporters," the admiral told him. "As you know, the Andorians didn't even have transporter technology until recently. After the... incident... at P'Jem where you were able to insert an entire landing party right under their noses they made it a priority."

Captain Archer nodded. "Understood. They must have really put everything they had into R&D if they could come up with something and deploy it as fast as they did."

"Yes and no," Gardner told him. "Yes, they put everything they had into it. But no, they didn't make it happen. Had no luck at all in fact. They finally ended up buying old technology from some Nausican pirates that was based on one of our obsolete designs. They had to reverse engineer everything and cobble it together. From what our intelligence can gather, the Andorian's transporter still cannot handle more than two people at once, it's noisy as a bomb going off, and its energy expenditure is almost off the scale."

"So they want our transporter," Archer nodded with a gleam in his eye. "And in return?"

Gardner gave a wolf's grin. "In return for a working prototype, complete designs, and all necessary technical assistance to adapt our hardware to fit their technology...they are offering us a warp 7 engine."

"YES!" Archer's fist hammered down on the desktop. Gardner chuckled. After a moment though, Archer's gleeful expression faded and he started to look thoughtful.

"Now you are beginning to see the ramifications, aren't you Jon?" Gardner asked. "How do we do this without upsetting the Vulcans? Granted that we don't need their permission for anything. But by the same token, it isn't wise to piss them off either. Especially since we are less than twenty light years from each other's doorstep."

"We can't pass this chance up, Admiral," Archer protested vehemently, "We can't!"

"We have no intention of passing it up, Jon. Calm down," Gardner admonished him. "That's where you come in. It is going to be up to you to make this happen without ruffling any feathers." Archer's eyes snapped open widely.

"You can't be serious, Sir!" His voice rose slightly. "Me?" It could not rightfully be called a squeak. Not quite.

"Well, you and Commander Tucker. Hopefully with some assistance from Lady T'Pol if she is willing," Gardner told him. "You and Tucker are well regarded by both the Vulcans and the Andorians, and T'Pol carries weight with the Vulcan government. All we want you to do is make sure the Vulcans understand that just because we are doing business with the Andorians, it doesn't mean that we don't love them anymore. Surely you can handle that, Jon?"

"Yes, Sir," Archer said stiffly. "Understood, Sir."

"Good," Gardner sat back, satisfied. "Ambassador Trask will contact you as soon as you arrive to arrange a meeting. Come on, Jon. Between the three of you, you have made several First Contacts, averted two wars, formed several new alliances, discovered who knows how many new races and cultures, recovered the philosophical roots of Vulcan culture, and introduced Andorian ale to the 602 club. Surely something this simple is not going to faze you."

"No, Sir. Of course not, Sir." Archer told him, poker faced. Admiral Gardner cut the transmission and Archer slumped in his chair, cursing quietly under his breath. He rubbed his forehead for a few minutes, thinking hard. Then he hit the comm button.

"_Hoshi." _

"_Yes,Sir?"_

"_Could you please re-establish that connection with Trip? I need to talk to him." _

-&-

The End For Now. "The moving finger writes, and having writ, moves on..." But that was before the discovery of word processors and temporal cold wars. Now all bets are off.

_Finis_


End file.
